


Shattered

by MissCricket



Series: Mythology [1]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Angst and Humor, Cuddling and Snuggling, Dragon Age Kink Meme, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-14
Updated: 2011-12-14
Packaged: 2017-10-27 08:15:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/293637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissCricket/pseuds/MissCricket
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There were times that even Anders could bring himself to admit that joining with Justice had been a mistake</p><p>When he slept however he felt his mind separate from Justice, the spirit unable to travel back to the Fade along the delicate tendrils of slumber. When he slept Anders felt like himself, Anders the Grey Warden, Anders the irreverent who had oogled a statue of Andraste, Anders the escape artist.</p><p>Anders the Mage, who believed in his cause but wasn’t so consumed by it that the pleasures of life passed him by.</p><p>He missed that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

There were times that even Anders could bring himself to admit that joining with Justice had been a mistake.

He had done it for the right reasons, friendship with the Fade spirit and a longing to see Mages freed from their slavery to the Circles and the Chantry. But it was only later, tempered by knowledge and hindsight that Anders realised that he had made the wrong choice.

Humans were not like demons, nor were they like the Fade spirits. Humans were not personifications of a weakness, or a virtue. They were multidimensional, complex and full of emotions that the denizens of the Fade could not understand, but craved.

For them, life was black or white, good or evil, power or weakness. They could understand the indecision and humanity of the minds of those they sought to join with, only enough to exploit or convince them that a partnership would better serve their interests.

He believed that Justice had had some affection for him, as far as a Fade spirit could, but in the end Justice had managed to woo him into this partnership as surely as a demon had wooed Merrill.

Maybe that was why he was so hard on the little elf. It all hit far too close to home.

Sleep was his only escape, his solace in a world with alien thoughts and urges. A world where the slightest provocation could see the world shift from the greys of a mortal life, to the stark black and white of Justice.

And woe betide any that Justice saw with the black of evil.

When he slept however he felt his mind separate from Justice, the spirit unable to travel back to the Fade along the delicate tendrils of slumber. When he slept Anders felt like himself, Anders the Grey Warden, Anders the irreverent who had oogled a statue of Andraste, Anders the escape artist.

Anders the Mage, who believed in his cause but wasn’t so consumed by it that the pleasures of life passed him by.

He missed that.

As a Mage he could wander the paths of the Fade as his body rested, actively moving and controlling the shape of the world around him. He passed by faint shadows, other dreamers, ones who had little to no connection to him, or little connection to the Fade.

He had found Hawke a couple of times in the dreamscape of the Fade, dreaming of Lothering and his siblings. Knowing Hawke and their friendship had rendered the scene vivid, and he had watched. It was sad to see Hawke so happy amongst his family, but touching too when he could see interpretations of himself and the other companions living amongst the shadows of Hawke’s life.

He hadn’t disturbed him, and left the dream as silently as he had come.

The others he had seen once or twice, brushing faint tendrils against their dreams to see familiar scenes or faces and then withdrawing. His friends deserved privacy in dreams, and he was no voyeur.

Then he met Fenris.

The elf was unique, he knew that, but he hadn’t considered what the Lyrium markings might do to the elf’s dreams. And he hadn’t considered what a lure it would be for some of the demons.

Nightmares, every time he brushed against Fenris’ dreams he felt the fear and despair of the other male. And after the first few times he always entered the dream, aiding the elf with the demons, the shades of his past. He didn’t want to learn so much about Fenris, or about the horrors he had endured with Danarius, but if only a fragment of the nightmares held truth he could not help but pity the elf.

At first Fenris had been suspicious, the Lyrium markings aiding him to be more aware of the boundaries of waking and dreaming, Fade and reality. He did not recognise Anders, as the Mage’s shape, shifted when he stepped into Fenris’ dreams. It touched Anders to realise that every time he entered the elf’s dreams to aid him against the shadows that Fenris’ mind gave him the shape of Hawke.

Hawke, the one person in Thedas that Fenris associated with safety.

At first they did not speak, but when Anders started to recognise things in the nightmares, conversation became inevitable.

~*~

The dreams of Danarius and Tevinter were lessening, and in their place were twisted versions of the adventures Fenris and he shared with Hawke. There was enough truth in them to ring familiar in Anders mind, but there would be small differences.

A sloth demon, masquerading as one of the slavers, wrapping his tendrils of malaise around Fenris, making him move with a slowness he couldn’t understand. Anders could see the frustration in the green eyes of the elf, even as he fought with more of the ‘slavers’. None of them attacked Fenris, only the other party members.

Anders, wearing the mask of Hawke, watched as Sebastian was gutted by a sword, and then Aveline was decapitated, phantom blood splashing onto Fenris’ flinching cheek. This then was what Fenris feared...being helpless.

The demons hadn’t realised that he wasn’t one of their phantom tricks and he slaughtered them all, including the sloth demon that held Fenris. The elf fell to his knees, clutching at the empty air as Aveline and Sebastian vanished.

“I was not fast enough,” Fenris’ voice rumbled hoarsely from his throat, “I know I can fight, I’m a fast fighter. Why couldn’t I...”

Anders felt a stab of pity in his gut and knelt down beside the other male, “This is a dream Fenris. When this happened in reality you were fast enough. Aveline and Sebastian are alive...”

“But...” Fenris looked around but the bodies had vanished, and the landscape was wavering, “A dream.”

Anders had seen enough of Fenris’ dreams over the last few months to hate Danarius, but if he could, he would have loathed him even more in that moment for the suffering he inflicted on Fenris even now. Sure the elf was prickly and he bitterly resented Mages, but now...now having seen what magic wielded by a vicious BloodMage could do, Anders couldn’t blame him as much. Even escaped, as far away as Fenris was from the Magister, the elf still suffered.

The markings.

Lyrium sang softly from the others skin, an alluring call, reaching out to him and to all the demons and spirits of the Fade. Even free of Danarius, Fenris wasn’t free of the markings he had etched onto him. And he never would be.

“No harm will come to you.” Anders said gently, “The demons are gone.”

“Demons?” Fenris’ head came up sharply, and he looked around wildly, “Those were demons?”

“Yes, demons cause nightmares. Feeding off the emotions they illicit.”

“And you are one too?” his voice had grown hard and Anders could see the muscles in Fenris’ shoulders tense.

“Ha!” Anders snorted, rolling his eyes, “I am no demon thank you.”

“Then what are you?” Fenris had come up into a crouch, staring at him warily, “One of those Fade Spirits the Abomination preaches about?”

Anders felt himself bristle, “No. I’m as mortal as you are. Maker’s breath you’re prickly. I helped you, isn’t that enough?”

“No,” Fenris growled back, “I will make no deals with you.”

“Oh for...” Anders threw up his hands, “I’m human, and I’m not trying to trap you into a bargain.”

“Then tell me what you are.”

Knowing Fenris as he did, he doubted whether the news that he was a Mage would reassure the elf at all. But at the moment it was a better solution than having the elf think he was some kind of demon or spirit.

“I’m a Mage.” He informed the other male, watching as Fenris’ eyes shuttered even more, “We’re in the Fade, Mages can...”

“I know what Mages can do,” Fenris snapped, backing away from Anders. “Get away from me.”

“I helped you!” Anders retorted, rising to his feet as well, “How can you look at me like that?”

“The question is more what you were hoping to gain by helping me.” Green eyes skittered left and right, “You’ll get nothing from me Mage.”

“Fine. Be that way.” Anders snapped back, moving away, “Next time the demons come for you, I’ll let them have at you.”

He didn’t stay long enough to hear Fenris’ reply.

~*~

Three days later he saw Fenris in real life and felt immediately guilty when he saw the shadows under the elf’s eyes.

True to his threat he had avoided the call of the elf’s Lyrium markings, leaving him to handle the dreams on his own for the last two nights. From the hunted look the elf shot people, and the sad way he watched the others, it looked like it had taken its toll.

Justice stirred at the thought and Anders pushed it away, for some reason not wanting the Fade spirit to focus on his nighttime activities. It was private, something just his...only his. In the time he was separate from Justice, and therefore...not really something he wanted to share.

Hawke had decided to bring Fenris along, despite his obvious tiredness, because the day was supposed to be quiet. ‘Quiet’ was apparently a relative term when it came to Hawke, Anders thought as he ducked through the Lowtown bazaar.

Somehow some haggling or something had turned into an epic market fight and there were people everywhere fighting and grunting, shouting and snarling. The entire thing was ridiculous and amusing and dangerous at the same time, and the Mage kept having to use Mind Blast’s to make his way through the seething mob.

He spotted Hawke standing on top of a stall nearby, blades in his hands. Beside him, Isabella was peering out over the crowd, pointing things out. But where was Fenris...?

Instinctively he let out a pulse of magic, seeking that familiar mental signature, brushing over all the minds around him until he found the one that burned like Lyrium and had the unique signature of the marked elf. Blasting his way through the crowd he made it to where the elf was squashed against the stone wall, unable to move. Panic was there from all the sweaty skin and full body contact but he still mustered up a glare as Anders blasted people out of the way.

“I don’t need /your/ help Mage.”

“Whatever.” Anders rolled his eyes and nodded at a stall nearby, “Get on top. We’ll be out of the crush.”

Fenris clearly wanted to argue, but even he couldn’t argue the sense of the suggestion. Grumpily he turned away from Anders and clambered lithely up the struts, and Anders followed, as the people crushed around them once more.

The stall top was blessedly clear of all people and the two of them sat, gazing out at the chaos below. Nearby Hawke and Isabella were picking their way over...clambering from stall to stall.

“You look tired,” Anders supplied after a few tense moments, glancing over at the other, “Were you busy cleaning?”

“None of your business Mage.” Fenris spat back.

“It’s a wonder you haven’t died yet is all,” It was so easy to slip into the old sniping habits, “What with the filth in that house of yours.”

“And your clinic is a exemplification of cleanliness I suppose.”

“I live in Darktown, what’s your excuse?”

“If the mansion appears abandoned then no one will hunt me down.” Fenris snarled at him, “That is why.”

There was silence for a moment, then...

“But the inside doesn’t have to be...”

“One more word Mage and I will rip out your tongue.”

It was a conversation killer and the pair sat in silence until Hawke and Isabella joined them.

“You two haven’t killed each other yet!” Hawke gave them a brief clap before slumping down, “Whew, so how’s the day going so far?”

“Same as always.” Anders returned, feeling a grin tug up his mouth.

“That bad huh?” Hawke stretched his back as Isabella sat herself down into the space between Fenris and Anders, “How long before Aveline gets here. Bets?”

There wasn’t any time to take that bet, as the next moment they heard the tramp of boots, and Aveline hove into view, backed by the city guard. Beside her, Sebastian stood, fingering his bow and looking shocked at the damage being wrought around him.

“I give them ten minutes, twenty tops, and then we’ll be able to go.” Hawke said, laying back on the canvas, “I’m gonna nap, wake me when we’re going.”

~*~

Entering the Fade that night, Anders was not surprised to find his mind instinctively reaching out towards Fenris’ burning signature.

He worried about the elf, he knew that he had slept little when he was on the run, and the little sleep he had taken for himself had been tired, burnt out napping. It resulted in little time in the Fade, safety from the demons, and a much sharper temper.

Now he lived in Kirkwall, and the three years had relaxed him enough that he didn’t sleep so fitfully. He now slept properly, slept deeply, and thus became vulnerable. And somehow this had become Anders problem. Clearly he wasn’t content with just saving lives with healing, rescuing Mages from Templars, and keeping Hawke’s irrepressible arse in one piece. No he had to go along and add ‘rescuing Mage-hating ex slaves’ to his resume as well.

He wanted to feel grumpy about it, but entering Fenris’s dream, feeling his spirit form shifting to take on the cheeky expression and brawny shoulders of Hawke, he felt his heart clench as he recognized the scene before him.

It was like déjà vu; he stood in the Lowtown Bazaar, crowds seething around him. Fenris was pressed against the wall, but instead of the relatively innocent nature of the honest brawl earlier in the day, this time Anders recognized Danarius and Hadriana, who crowded the helpless elf, who was once again entangled with a sloth demon’s tendrils. Hands roamed over his body, caressing, squeezing and pinching.

Fenris’ head was pressed against the stone, face turned away and his eyes squeezed shut. He looked horribly vulnerable, and was shivering helplessly, fighting sluggishly against the demonic restraints. He looked beaten, crushed, and as Anders began to move forward, the Mage saw tears begin to trickle down the ivory skin.

It shocked him to the core to see those tears, and anger flooded him. Fenris, who never cried, never even whimpered, no matter how hurt, how bruised. Fenris who would fight until either he or his opponent was defeated. Fenris who was obviously so bone shatteringly tired and hurt that the demons could exploit it.

“Get away from him.” He roared in Hawke’s voice. The demons twisted, hissing in displeasure at having their meal disturbed and Anders lifted his hands. His body might wear the shell of Hawke’s form, but the magic was his own, and the power seared the demons, which shrieked in fury and agony and fled out into the Fade paths.

Fenris’ eyes had opened, and Anders followed his gaze to the shadowed forms of he and Isabella lying dead in the dust. It was bizarre to see himself, especially since it was himself through Fenris’ eyes. He looked like himself, except for small changes, and it surprised him. Fenris called him ‘Abomination’ and ‘Monster’ and yet…when his mind manifested Anders shape, he looked like the human he was. It was touching in a way.

He moved over to the elf as the scene faded from sight, stopping just out of reach.

“You alright?” he asked gently.

Fenris lifted his head, green eyes wary, “The Mage…” he said, but it lacked his usual venom, “I thought you were just letting the demons have at me now.”

“Decided to check up on you.” Anders felt another twinge of guilt, “And I was right, you really are hopeless and helpless…”

That made Fenris tense, his eyes snap completely open, and straighten up in a flash, “Watch who you call helpless Mage.” He spat back, “Just because not everyone makes deals with demons…”

“Steady on,” Anders grumbled back, “If I made deals with demons I would have dealt with those ones, rather than chasing them off.”

There was silence for a long moment as Fenris glared at him, and Anders looked back, eyebrow rising slowly with amusement.

“True.” Fenris conceded after a pregnant pause, “Who are you anyway? You wear my friend’s form and yet you aren’t him.”

“Your mind gives me this shape to wear.” Anders responded, unwilling to tell Fenris just who was aiding him in his dreams. What would Fenris do if he knew it was Anders? Likely he would turn on him again, believe it a violation of his private thoughts. He didn’t trust easily, and Anders felt the sudden urge to win that trust. Here in the Fade he wasn’t the Anders the Abomination that Fenris loathed so much. He was the Mage who saved him from demons.

Maybe he could…

“I’m a friend.” He reassured the elf, “Your Lyrium markings call to me when I fall asleep, and when I felt you suffering in your nightmares…”

“So you decided just to help? Just like that?” Fenris’ voice was sharply disbelieving, but the colours around them were slowly bleeding into the softer greens and blues of a calmer mind.

“Shocking isn’t it,” Anders responded with a grin, “Helping other people never ever happens. Ever.”

Fenris glared.

“Stop that.”

“What do you want?” Fenris asked slowly, his voice brooking no argument, “What have you to gain?”

“You intrigue me.” Anders shrugged, trying to sound like a random Mage rather than Fenris’ most hated companion, “I’d like to get to know you.”

“Get to know me?” Fenris sneered, “Why? So you can…”

“Oh stop being so self righteous …” Anders snarked back, “I wander the Fade when I sleep. Talking to you will be interesting, rather than just aimlessly ambling around.”

The elf eyed him suspiciously but eventually nodded slowly. “If you must.”

It was as close as a welcome as he was ever going to get, so Anders nodded, hiding away his smile and the flare of triumph he felt in his chest.

~*~

It was like living two lives.

By day he hid out in his Darktown clinic, healing the desperate and injured, or he wandered about the city and surrounds with Hawke and their motley bunch of misfits. He enjoyed that life somewhat, but he could find no true contentment in it since every time he relaxed, Justice would grip him and chide him for sloth.

He still passionately believed in the cause for Mages, that would not change, but the knowledge that accepting Justice into his body had been a mistake haunted him. He knew Hawke and the others worried about him, knew that they feared what Justice could make him do.

But the hardest part, of this life, was the growing torment of Fenris.

By night he protected the brooding elf’s dreams, keeping the demons at bay and slowly he drew the recalcitrant male out of his shell. Perhaps it was because Fenris reminded him of a cat, an abused stray, who wanted to shun all company and yet craved the affection companionship offered. Night after night he patiently talked to the elf, drawing him out with little quips and jokes.

Here there was no Justice to loom disapprovingly in his thoughts, he felt lighter, more like his old self. And as such he could have more patience with the stubborn elf than Justice would ever allow him. Anders understood Fenris now, and here in dreams he could truly get to know the elf.

But in reality...

Fenris still loathed him, spat insults at him and called him Abomination at every turn. Justice, in return, was none too fussed about the Tevinter fugitive either, and the arguments were now more Justice and Fenris rather than Anders and Fenris. It hurt too much to see the elf spitting hateful words at him by the day, and then open up to him by the soft light of the Fade.

“I have told you of myself, that which you did not find out by watching my dreams,” Fenris muttered at him one evening in the Fade, plucking some pale purple stems from some grass he had managed to grow. The elf gave him a token glare as he said this, but Anders didn’t bristle. He knew that Fenris had long ago forgiven his intrusions, “And yet you continue to wear Hawke’s face and tell me nothing of yourself.”

“You know that I am a Mage.”

“Indeed,” Fenrs frowned faintly, but he no longer seemed to view it with as much vitriol, “And you have never stooped to use Blood Magic. But...” And here Fenris shredded a blade of grass, “I have asked my friend, the one whose face you wear, and he said it is customary for friends to share information about themselves.”

“You asked Hawke about a friend you met in the Fade?” Anders yelped, feeling his heart beat a little faster in his chest.

“I am not stupid Mage.” Fenris grumbled, “Months ago I too would have thought you a demon.”

“Glad to hear you’ve changed your mind somewhat.”

“Quite. This leaves us back here. I know nothing about you.”

“Well...what do you want to know?” Anders felt wary, but also had that uncomfortable feeling in his gut. Would Fenris really react so badly if he told him who he was, “I’m a mage who longs for the right to shoot lightning at fools. Oh and to rain fireballs down on every Templar in creation.”

It provoked a wistful smile, remembering the conversation he’d had with the Warden Commander back in Fereldan. Even then he’d been so much younger. But here, separated from Justice, he felt more like the old Anders. And kind of missed him.

“Do all Mages hate Templars?” Fenris growled, “It seems to be all I hear of.”

“Oh?” Anders glanced over at the elf who was plaiting the purple grass leaves together. Could he be talking about him? “Friendly with Mages are you?”

Fenris laughed, and Anders felt his stomach lurch at the sound. He’d never really heard the elf laugh before, “Hardly,” Fenris chuckled, “I have a travelling companion, who bemoans the state of Mages across Thedas constantly.”

“You don’t sound like you’re a fan...” Anders was fishing, he knew he was fishing, and this was dangerous territory, “I don’t think the Circles work personally, but there is a case for why they exist.”

“He’s...an abomination.” Fenris said quietly, and then held up a hand to forestall any loud shouting that his mage friend might indulge in, “Not like the usual kind, I’ll grant him that. He’s no blood mage.”

“Then how is he an Abomination?”

“He invited a spirit of Justice into himself. Supposedly.” Fenris rolled his eyes, “Makes him even more sanctimonious.”

“Sounds like an interesting friend.” Anders considered how to steer the conversation away from himself once more but then Fenris glanced over at him.

“You distracted me. I asked you about yourself. Not about...my companion.”

He had almost said Ander’s name but Fenris saw the hesitation there. He had wanted to trust his friend, but he hadn’t wanted to name Anders in case the Mage reported him. It touched him, another sign that whatever Fenris pretended, perhaps their antagonism wasn’t as deep as they pretended.

\- -

It had taken a bit of practice, and a lot of magical energy but looking around at the finished result, Anders allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction.

He was in the Fade, and having found the gateway to Fenris’ dreams after a bit of exploration, had used his magical talents, and that willpower of his, to shape it into how he wished. Finding the place had been a little challenging, not being able to follow Fenris’ distinct mental signature, but here he was, and now he only had to wait for the elf to sleep.

It turned out he didn’t have to wait long.

A shimmer in the air and Fenris appeared, shoulder hunched as though waiting for a demon to attack the instant he entered the Fade. When nothing happened however the elf looked up and his mouth fell open.

A forest, a large towering forest of trees, surrounding a little sun filled glade, full of soft green grass and a stream running by. Anders leant by a tree, watching as the elf gazed about him with incredulity written all over his face. Finally the elf looked over at the Mage, his face working slightly, his emotions fighting against honed instinct. He wanted to keep his face neutral, but Anders could see the pleasure there.

“What is this?” Fenris asked his voice a little raspy.

“It’s for you.” Anders said, “I did some research and put up some stronger protections, some shields around the entrances to your dreams. No demon can reach you here.”

“You...” Fenris looked around, his face for once devoid of any wariness, or bitterness. Instead there is vulnerability there and Anders realises with a jolt that Fenris has never experienced this before. The elf had never had someone look after him, treat him like he was something precious,. Fenris had never been loved. He didn’t remember his life before Danarius, and the ‘love’ he had received under the other man had been double edged, cruel as it was kind, taking away much more than it gave.

Before he had found Fenris’ dreams he never would have thought about what he might have turned into if all he had known was manipulation, pain and hurt. If all the bright bursts of sweetness in his life had been overpowered by smothering darkness.

It made him glad now that he had followed impulse and made this.

“I...do not know what to say...” Fenris haltingly said, staring at the stream burbling by and then slowly lifting his gaze to Anders.

“I’d settle for thanks...” Anders said, swallowing down the lump in his throat and trying for levity.

“Thank you.” The elf said it quietly, and slowly walked forward until he was just within arm’s reach, closer than he had ever been before, “I...but...”

“But...?” There was a but? Anders felt his stomach drop.

“I don’t want to see you wearing Hawke’s face any more.” Fenris’ voice was soft but firm, “I have thought about it for a while. You have been coming to my dreams for months and I do not like deception. You wear another’s face, you give me no name by which to call you and you share little about yourself. I..wonder if it is because you do not trust me. And now this...”

“Fenris,” Anders stepped forward, pausing as the silver head jerked up at the movement. But the elf didn’t move back, and Anders relaxed, “I wear whatever shape you choose to give me. This, here in the Fade? This is your dreamscape. You can create, or shape anything you want to. You can give me any face. You can recreate any scene, imagine anything you want. I wear this face because you expect to see it.”

“You cannot change the shape?”

“I could. But it would take a lot of effort and power.”

Fenris looked down at the ground, and he frowned slightly, thinking. Then he lifted his face. “Close your eyes.” He whispered, “Don’t open them.”

Confused, Anders did as he was asked and closed his eyes. After a moment he felt Fenris take a slow step forward, his fingertips reaching out. Something cool shivered across his skin as his form changed, Fenris’ mind giving him a new shell. And then a warm breath brushed against his skin.

In Thedas that warm breath would have made him shiver, he would have felt it more keenly. But here in the Fade it was a mere echo of a true gesture. Still it made his breath catch in his chest and his face warm as Fenris came even closer, hesitant lips coming up to brush against the soft skin at the corner of his mouth.

“What are you doing...?” he whispered softly, and felt a puff of soft air against his lips.

“I want...I want to kiss you.” Fenris’ whisper was hesitant but filled with a frustration that Anders could understand, “But Danarius...his kisses were never pleasurable. All teeth and blood and...I...”

“They aren’t supposed to be like that.” Anders reassured, hand coming up, “May I?”

He was asking more than to open his eyes, and more than to kiss him, he was asking to show him. And he knew how proud Fenris was.

“Yes.” The elf said slowly, “But you will stop...”

“The instant you say so.”

“Very well...”

And Anders opened his eyes. He was wearing the soft clothing that the nobility of hightown seemed to wear to bed. Luxurious and sensual. His hands weren’t Hawke’s hands though, but the next second he didn’t care because his fingers threaded themselves loosely into those soft satiny strands of hair and his mouth was pressed to Fenris’.

At first the mouth under his was tense, unresponsive, so Anders traced the very tip of his tongue against his bottom lip. Slowly the mouth opened, a cautious submission. Even as he did so, Anders felt the shorter elf edge closer, his head tilting up, and the wave of possessive heat that seared through his belly took his breath away.

But he was slow, soft, careful, kissing Fenris with a tenderness that he hadn’t expected of himself. Back in his wilder days it had been all hard fast pleasure, but this...this was so much more. That’s not to say it lacked passion but the passion was simmering behind the kiss, not driving it, and Anders was lost.

Carefully he curved his arm protectively around Fenris’ waist but kept his other hand in his hair. Slowly his mouth left Fenris’ soft and now pliant mouth and drifted down to his neck. He didn’t touch the Lyrium, but kissed the soft skin at the fluttering pulse point.

Then, despite everything screaming at him to stay right where he was, Anders slowly withdrew. Stepping back he smiled softly, eyes opening to take in the sight of the elf, lips slightly pink and tender from his careful administrations, and the green eyes fluttering open.

“Ask me three questions, apart from my name,” Anders breathed, “And I will answer them honestly.”

“Are you in the Circle?” Fenris swallowed, blinking slowly.

“No.”

“Are you an elf?”

“No.”

“Would...would you kiss me again?”

The question was asked so gruffly, and his voice had dropped to such a low purr that Anders almost didn’t hear it. But he did and a smile crossed his lips.

“Yes.”

Fenris stepped forward, a hesitant shy but game smile on his face, and Anders cupped his cheeks, kissing him again. And he did not stop kissing until dawn broke and Fenris slowly shimmered out of his arms, to wake back on Thedas.

~*~

“I think there is something wrong with Fenris.” Hawke spoke up the next night while they were all out at the Hanged Man. Anders’, whose ears pricked up at even the slightest mention of the elf, looked around at Hawke, his stomach clenching at the thought of something being wrong with his Fenris.

“Why do you say that Hawke?” Varric asked, leaning back in his chair, boots resting on the edge of the table, “Broody looks alright to me.”

The entire group looked over at Fenris, who was at the bar trying to procure another round of drinks for everyone.

“He looks fine to me too,” Merrill said, propping her chin on her hand as she observed the other elf, “In fact I think he looks better than he’s looked in a long time.”

“He always looks pretty damn fine to me.” Isabella supplied, leering at Fenris’ arse as he bent over the counter to growl at the bartender, “Look at those buns, fresh from the bakery.”

Anders bit down a growl and felt Justice stir faintly, listening in to the conversation. The Spirit was confused as to why Anders cared if Isabella eyed Fenris’ arse, they hated that pretentious elf didn’t they?

Justice hated Fenris, Anders...

He didn’t dare think on how Anders, the Anders free of spirit possession, felt for Fenris right now.

Hawke rolled his eyes at Isabella, “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Mmm but it’s so much more interesting.” The pirate smirked and dragged her eyes away from Fenris to eye the others, “But I’m listening. Why do you think there is something wrong with Fenris, Hawke?”

“We routed out a coven of BloodMages today.” Hawke said, a frown creasing between his brows, “There was blood everywhere, and some young mages who claimed to have been brought there from the Gallows. Normally Fenris would have been frothing at the mouth to kill them, just in case they turned out to be Blood Mages. Instead he hangs back, and frowns but doesn’t make a sound. Even when I suggest letting them go out into the wide world.”

“You didn’t did you Hawke?” Sebastian asked, shaking his head disapprovingly.

“No of course not. But I suggested it. And normal Fenris would have ranted and raved about it for hours, days...weeks even.”

Anders felt a warm glow blossom under his breastbone, looking over at the elf who was carefully putting all the glasses on a tray to bring over.

“He’s met someone.” Isabella chimed in, withdrawing a tiny dagger from somewhere Anders didn’t even want to know about, “He been meeting them at night, in secret.”

Anders choked on his water.

“How come I didn’t know about this?” Hawke looked outraged, “Why didn’t he, why didn’t YOU tell me about this?”

“I told you now didn’t I? Anyway, I got the impression that Mr Secret is a mage. So I think our little Fenris is growing up and learning to appreciate those special talents Mage’s have.”

Of course that was when Fenris returned to the table, putting the drinks down with a grimace, “Four cups of piss, and one of piss plus sludge.” He grumbled, retrieving his wine glass from the mass of glasses.

“It may taste like shit,” Isabella drawled, lifting her glass in a toast before throwing back a gulp, “Ah, but it will get you drunk as fast as the Hightown bars. And it’s cheaper.”

“Things should taste nice,” Fenris growled, rolling his eyes, “Otherwise drinking is not pleasurable.”

“It’s called a quick swallow.” Isabella said, her smile turning wicked, “You should practice on having something shoot into the back of your throat.”

Anders nearly choked again, and a faint blush dusted across Fenris’ ivory cheeks.

“Isabella,” He growled, “Stop giving me advice.” His eyes skittered around the table, his green eyes settling lightly on Hawke and then on Anders, who was gazing up at him, “What do you want Mage?” He spat.

“Nothing...” Anders said quietly, “Nothing at all.”

~*~

When it came to romance, Anders was almost as clueless as Fenris.

Way back when, before Justice, Anders had not really been discriminate in his sexual partners. Beautiful women and handsome men were there to be enjoyed right? But he had never let any of them close, not in that soft way that true lovers did. Karl had probably been the closest, but even so, how he had felt for Karl had been a mere shadow of what he was beginning to feel for Fenris.

And that was just it wasn’t it, he was beginning to have real and deep feelings for the broody mage hating elf...and it wasn’t ever going to go anywhere.

In reality he was an Abomination, possessed by a spirit that fought against him having worldly attachments. Justice’s goals were for the future, and it seemed he cared little for Anders’ happiness and well being, unless it interfered with his end plans.

In reality he was a wanted Apostate, who hated blood magic and Templars, who feared being made Tranquil, and who dreaded the day when his choices would catch up with him and hurt those he most cared for.

In reality he was everything Fenris hated. Maybe if he had not been possessed by Justice, maybe then he and Fenris might have had a chance at least. But now...now he would only break Fenris’ heart.

But he couldn’t stay away.

Fenris’ mind called to him the instant he fell asleep, even now that he had mastered the wards that protected the elf’s dreams. He was not needed, not to fight, but Fenris called, wanting him there. And Anders did not have the strength to deny him, or himself.

Tonight Anders was leaning back against one of the phantom trees he had created in Fenris’ dream glade, sitting cross legged. And Fenris’ head lay in his lap, his neck warm against Anders’ ankles, his hair soft as it slipped through his stroking fingers. It had been Fenris who had suggested the position, saying he had once seen it in a painting in Tevinter, and had always wondered about it.

“Do I get three questions tonight?” Fenris asked, his voice a low, contented rumble, “I like getting to know you better.”

“You can ask,” Anders said, trailing his fingers through the feathered strands of silver hair, “If I answer, it will be honest.”

“I suppose that’s something,” Fenris huffed a low chuckle and closed his eyes thoughtfully, “First question then. Have we met before? Outside of the Fade?”

“Yes.” Anders answered unwillingly, “After a fashion.”

Fenris’ eyes flicked open once more to give Anders a reproachful glare, “And what does that mean?”

“Is that your second question then?” Anders teased back, grinning slightly. He still didn’t know what form he wore these days, but it made Fenris’ face soften when he saw him. It was hard, hard to be jealous of himself, or rather the face he wore.

“No that’s not my second question!” Fenris muttered, outraged, sitting up and twisting to face Anders, “You didn’t answer my first one. Have we met before Mage, yes or no?”

Anders sighed, lifting his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, and missed the way Fenris’ eyes widened slightly at the gesture.

“Yes. We’ve met.”

Fenris nodded, leaning in to nuzzle his lips at the corner of Anders’ mouth.

“Better.”

“I live for your approval of course.”

“As you should.” And Fenris smirked against his lips, kissing him lightly, “It is no easy thing to gain.”

“You’re telling me...” Anders sighed, relaxing under Fenris’ fumbling affection, “Took weeks, months even, to get you to trust me.”

“Mages are slippery.” Fenris breathed gruffly, crawling forward a pace, moving half onto Anders lap, “Had to be sure.”

“Don’t apologise.” Anders murmured back, “I enjoyed it.”

A faint smile was pressed to his cheek and then Fenris was talking again, his voice rumbling around Anders like the comforting sound of thunder, “Next question.” He paused, swallowing slightly before continuing, “Did you think less of me? When you saw what Danarius did to me? Did you think me...damaged?”

Anders pulled back, hands coming up to draw Fenris into a long slow, breathless kiss. They broke from it sometime later, both panting slightly and Fenris was smiling that little private smile of his, “Never.” Anders murmured, tracing his fingers over the elf’s jaw-line and up to his delicate ears.

“Good...” Fenris purred, lowering his head to rest it over Anders chest, “Last question then. Can I see you? In person?”

The question reignited the ache in his chest, and Anders closed his eyes against the pain of it, the sheer unfairness. But he had promised to answer truthfully.

“You would not like me, in person.” He said softly, “Trust me on this Fenris. Finding me...would only bring this to a sharp, painful end.” Probably with his heart ripped out of his chest.

The elf frowned, but nodded, and Anders relaxed, enjoying the feeling of the slender male in his arms. “Look at you, all snuggled up against a Mage no less.”

“Shut up.” Fenris growled, but Anders could feel the tiny upcurve of his lips.

“I just think its interesting is all.”

“One more word Mage...”

Anders just smiled and settled in to cuddle his little elf until dawn broke and he shimmered away, out of his arms. Standing the Mage stretched and prepared to reawaken in his own body, unaware that Fenris had woken in his bed in Hightown, with a plan in his head.

~*~

It was midafternoon when Fenris came marching into his clinic.

Since, normally, the elf avoided the Darktown clinic, unless he was trailing Hawke, or being carried by the others, Anders felt justified in gaping at him as he paused in sorting through his medicines. Fenris was followed quickly by Merrill who was wearing an intrigued expression on her face, Sebastian who looked disapproving and Hawke who just looked entertained.

“Can I help you?” Anders drawled, watching the elf come to a stop firmly out of reach, “Are you bleeding somewhere under that armour of yours?”

“She,” and Fenris jerked a thumb over his shoulder towards Merrill, who lifted her hand in a small wave, “Says that you have a natural affinity for the Fade.”

Anders gut clenched.

“Ah...” he said, pretending confusion and wishing he could think of a reason to send Fenris away. Justice was listening, and Anders could feel the spirit focusing on what was happening.

“Fenris asked me about the Fade.” Merrill interjected helpfully, stepping lightly forward, “He...”

“I can speak for myself.” Fenris snapped at her before turning back to Anders, “There is a Mage who has been meeting me in my dreams, I want to find him.”

Anders desperately tried to push down the thoughts of Fenris’ dreams, of the elf’s mouth soft and pliant against his, but how could he keep it from his mind with Fenris here asking him? Roaring filled his ears and Anders felt Justice surge to the fore, taking over his body and mouth. He could still see and hear, but it was distant, so distant...

 _”YOU!”_ Justice roared at Fenris, who had taken a few steps back and was glowing too now, _”I HAVE FELT THE SHIFT IN HIM, THE SOFTNESS GROWING! YOU HAVE BEEN THE DISTRACTION FOR OUR CAUSE! I SHALL END THIS NOW!”_

Something shivered through Anders as he realised just what Justice was going to do, and he fought back, suddenly and with a desperation he hadn’t known he possessed. Not Fenris, not Fenris...

Pain such as he had never known before, agony through his mind and soul as he and Justice battled for control. But for a moment, just a moment he claimed the mouth and cried out.

“Run Fenris!”

He saw Merrill casting a shield around Fenris, a shield he had taught her, and he saw the Dalish dragging a fighting, shouting Fenris away. He could not hear what he was saying, but dully he knew that that was probably for the best. He saw Sebastian lifting his bow, an arrow trained on him, and saw Hawke shove the Prince’s arm down, yanking the archer back out of the clinic.

Anders had a few seconds to feel relief that they were safe before suddenly the world lurched around him and he knew no more.


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There were times that even Anders could bring himself to admit that joining with Justice had been a mistake
> 
> When he slept however he felt his mind separate from Justice, the spirit unable to travel back to the Fade along the delicate tendrils of slumber. When he slept Anders felt like himself, Anders the Grey Warden, Anders the irreverent who had oogled a statue of Andraste, Anders the escape artist.
> 
> Anders the Mage, who believed in his cause but wasn’t so consumed by it that the pleasures of life passed him by.
> 
> He missed that.

It was most disturbing to wake up and realise that you were no longer in your own body.

After the initial moment of disorientation Anders realised that he was in fact floating beside his crumpled physical shell, an incorporeal spirit. Had he died then? Had his struggle with Justice actually killed him?

 _YOU HAVE BROUGHT THIS UPON YOURSELF_ Justice’s voice boomed in his mind, and he turned to see the shape of Justice as he had once been, standing behind him, _IF YOU HAD SIMPLY CONCENTRATED ON OUR TASK INSTEAD OF FRATENISING WITH THAT ELF_.

“Oh shut up.” Anders bit back, finally fed up with Justice and all he had endured since agreeing to allow his mind to mesh with the spirit’s, “My life cannot wholly be about the cause! I’m no Fade Spirit to concentrate on one thing and one thing alone.”

 _IT IS BECAUSE YOU ARE WEAK. BUT I WILL MAKE IT NOT SO. YOU CHOSE TO JOIN WITH ME ANDERS AND NOW BECAUSE YOU CHOSE TO DEFEND THAT ELF OUR CAUSE IS COMPROMISED._

 _Anders looked down at his body, laying there on the dusty ground of his clinic and shuddered, “Am I dead then?”_

 _ _NO._ Justice admitted _NOT YET.__

 _Before Anders could ask what he meant the door to the clinic creaked open and Merrill’s head peered around it, green eyes peeping cautiously at the silent clinic. They fell on the crumpled shape of the Mage and she gasped, pushing the door open properly to hurry in and fall by Anders’ body._

 _“Anders!”_

 _A second later Hawke too had entered, Fenris a pale but hasty third and Sebastian brought up the rear looking infinitely more wary than the rest of them._

 _“What’s wrong with him!” Fenris’ voice rose, a note of panic touching it, “Why isn’t he moving!”_

 _“He’s not dead,” Merrill’s hands fluttered over Anders’ chest, pale light glimmering about her fingertips, “But...he feels wrong...”_

 _ _”THAT IS BECAUSE HIS SPIRIT HAS LEFT HIS BODY”_ Justice’s form took on a more solid blue sheen and instantly his friends reacted. An arrow was nocked to Sebastian’s bow and Fenris was on his feet, sword drawn, _”THE PHYSICAL SHELL WILL CONTINUE TO FUNCTION, BUT ONLY FOR SO LONG.”__

 _“Where is he!” Fenris snarled, taking a threatening step towards the spirit. Hawke caught his arm, and winced as Fenris turned on him, snarling, Lyrium bursting into burning light. “Bring him back!”_

 _ _”AND WHY SHOULD I DO THAT?”_ Justice retorted, glaring at Fenris, _”OUR STRUGGLE DROVE US FROM HIS BODY. HE SHOULD NOT HAVE FOUGHT ME.”__

 _“Bring him back!”_

 _ _”IT WILL TAKE MORE THAN SHOUTING TO MAKE IT SO.”_ The Fade spirit considered the mortals standing before it and made a low considering sound. _”THERE ARE SEVERAL OPTIONS FOR WHAT HAPPENS NOW. ONE, I ALLOW ANDERS TO RECLAIM HIS BODY AND REMAIN OUTSIDE THE FADE. TWO, ANDERS AND I BOTH REJOIN THE PHYSICAL SHELL AND I TAKE HIM FAR FROM HERE. OR THREE. I SIMPLY TAKE THE BODY FOR MYSELF, AND DO THE WORK THAT ANDERS WAS TOO WEAK TO DO.”__

 _Fenris’ hands had gone white knuckled on his sword, and his face was stony as he looked at the shape of the spirit. Anders too stared at Justice, and wondered how he could have been so foolish._

 _“And what, would it take for you to do option one?” Merrill asked, glancing up, “What bargain would be struck?”_

 _“Merrill!” Sebastian hissed, scandalised, “Do not bargain with it!”_

 _Justice considered the little elf for a long moment before letting out a low mirthless chuckle, _”ANDERS IS MINE.”_ he stated firmly, _”YOU HAVE NO CLAIM TO HIM FOOLISH BLOODMAGE.”__

“She does not.” Fenris growled, moving forward and ignoring Hawke’s hiss of warning and the creak of Sebastian’s bow, “But I do. He’s mine Spirit, and I’m not going to just let you take him.”

“Fenris...” Anders breathed, trying to reach out to the elf, “Fenris no...”

 _”I SHALL MAKE YOU A DEAL THEN ELF.”_ Justice crooned, moving forward to stand just before the former slave, _”FOR I AM JUSTICE, AND THUS MUST OFFER YOU A CHANCE. THREE TASKS. COMPLETE THEM AND I WILL RESTORE ANDERS TO HIS BODY.”_

 _“And you will leave him be?” Fenris asked, “You will not try to possess him or another?”_

 _“I might be able to help with that actually,” Merrill stood, brushing the dirt down off her smock, “The Dalish have a ritual...”_

 _“Don’t they always...?” Hawke quipped, despite his mouth being pressed into a tight line._

 _“Not now Hawke...” Sebastian groaned, easing his bow off the spirit and slipping his arrow back into his quiver, “You have the worst timing.”_

 _“The Dalish have a ritual to banish spirits back to the fade. If you came to Sundermount, to where the veil is thin, then perhaps we would be able to send you back.”_

 _ _”THAT IS ACCEPTABLE.”_ Justice eyed Fenris, _”DO YOU AGREE ELF? THREE TASKS AND HE IS YOURS.”__

 _“No!” Anders shouted, trying to make himself heard, “Fenris! Don’t be such an idiot! Don’t...”_

 _Fenris didn’t hear him and just looked up at the spirit of Justice and nodded._

 _“Agreed.”_

 _~*~_

 _The next twenty four hours were some of the most intensely frustrating of Anders life._

 _Considering that his life had included solitary confinement for a whole year, which he had endured with limited wall climbing, it said a lot for his state of mind as he followed Hawke and Fenris around, waiting for Justice to issue his first task to the elf._

 _Hours passed and finally Fenris and Hawke left the clinic and Darktown, heading for the Hanged Man and the company of alcohol and their friends. Although Anders was grateful that Fenris insisted they move his body from the clinic and up into Hawke’s estate. Who knew what the refugees might do to a helpless almost-corpse._

 _Silently Anders followed, feeling quite despondent about how the day had turned out. Fenris had found out he was the Mage in the Fade, Justice had tried to kill Fenris and the resulting battle had resulted in Anders’ mind being forcibly evicted from his physical shell. On top of that his, whatever the hell he and Fenris were now, elf had made a deal with that damned spirit to save Anders._

 _And he had no clue why._

 _The Hanged Man was busy and crowded, but Anders found the whole place disconcerting. He floated through people, and the place didn’t smell. He also couldn’t touch the sticky tabletops, or down a few quick shots, which he was tempted to do at this point._

 _He was simply an observer, hanging nebulously around behind Hawke and Fenris. And it sucked._

 _The three of them entered Varric’s suite of rooms, shutting the door behind them as they entered. Everyone was there, a bit subdued, and more than a few worried glances were sent Fenris’ way._

 _“Hawke!” Varric greeted their friend warmly, waving him and Fenris towards some of the empty seats, “Can we now find out what happened? Choir boy and Daisy are terrible story tellers.”_

 _“I’ve been told my voice is quite soothing.” Sebastian said, giving Varric a hurt frown, “And...”_

 _“I’m with Varric on this one.” Aveline interjected, leaning back in her chair, “Your voice may be soothing Sebastian but you’re much too pedantic to be a good story teller.”_

 _“And then we walked up the six, or maybe it was seven stairs up to the clinic and we saw that woman outside the door, what was her name? She likes horseradish, ah yes, Clarisse, and then we went inside...” Isabella teased, her voice taking on a passable imitation of Sebastian’s lilting accent._

 _“Sometimes I wonder why I’m friends with you people.” Sebastian grumped back, but the small smile around his mouth told them that he didn’t mean it._

 _“You’d be bereft without my charm and good looks, admit it Sebastian.” Hawke drawled, to general laughter around the table._

 _Fenris had quietly sat himself down and poured himself a large glass of wine. The others had briefly forgotten him in their good natured ribbing, but although Anders smiled at the familiar teasing, his gaze was on Fenris and the way that he gulped down the potent wine. It was followed by a couple of shots, Isabella quietly pushed toward him, of something strong that made the elf pull a face, but he didn’t slow down until he’d downed them and then finished his glass of wine._

 _“So?” Varric asked, looking between Hawke and Fenris, “What happened to Blondie?”_

 _Then quietly, haltingly Fenris began the story._

 _He started with the nightmares, not going into any details, and told them of the mysterious Mage in the Fade who had helped him. His voice grew stronger as he spoke, relating of their friendship and then the more that had grown, and his frustration at not knowing who it was._

 _Most of it was glossed over, keeping the private memories private, but Anders could see the way the others reacted. Merrill had her hands clasped under her chin, and her luminous eyes were wet, Aveline looked pitying but trying to be impassive, Sebastian was looking down at the table but was clearly still listening, Isabella was considering the glass in her hand, and the liquor swirling in it, Varric was making surreptitious notes on some parchment and Hawke was watching Fenris’ face._

 _“I wanted to know who he was...” Fenris said gruffly, pouring himself another glass of wine, “So I went to Hawke.”_

 _His voice seemed to fail him and he looked up at Hawke’s face and the man smoothly took over the narrative as Fenris went back to getting himself totally trashed on alcohol._

 _“I suggested Merrill.” Hawke said, fingers tapping on the arms of his chair, “But when she recommended Anders as having a better natural knowledge of the Fade....”_

 _“He’s a Spirit Healer.” Merrill interrupted, eager to explain, “A very talented one, and his connection to the Fade is particularly strong. I don’t know whether that has to do with...” her voice trailed off, as Fenris threw back another shot, looking pained._

 _“Anyway...” Hawke winced, hurrying on, “We went to Anders, but when Fenris asked....”_

 _“Justice...” Everyone sighed, and took a drink. Even Sebastian took a sip of his water._

 _“You got it.” Hawke drawled, “He threw a bit of a temper tantrum at the thought of Fenris taking his favourite toy...”_

 _Fenris choked._

 _“...And tried to fry him. But Anders managed to get control back enough for us to get out of the room.”_

 _“And when we got back in.” Fenris took over, his voice raspy, “He was laying there on the floor. Practically dead.”_

 _“His struggle with Justice ended up with both of them being ripped from the physical shell.” Sebastian contributed quietly, “I don’t know how that works but...”_

 _“I have a theory!” Merrill practically bounced forward in her chair, “Anders was trying to hold him back from hurting Fenris...” her eyes went a little misty and Aveline rolled her eyes, nudging her surreptitiously, “And that meant that mentally he was clinging to Justice. So when Justice tried to flee the body to exact vengeance as a spirit....”_

 _“He took Anders with him.” Varric tapped his lips, “That’s not good.”_

 _“Justice made me a deal.” Fenris said bluntly, staring down into his wine, “I complete three tasks and he will leave Anders permanently.”_

 _“Is that wise?” Aveline asked slowly, “I mean I want Anders back...” she added hastily as a few of the group glared at her, “Of course I do, but...deals with spirits. Aren’t they like demons? This could be really dangerous Fenris, he won’t want to lose.”_

 _“You didn’t even know it was Anders who was your Fade Mage.” Sebastian added his voice to the argument, “Surely now you know it’s him...”_

 _“What?” Anders spluttered, but of course no one heard him._

 _“And just what do you mean by that Sebastian?” Hawke scowled at the Chantry brother, “We should just let Anders die?”_

 _“No, that’s not what I’m saying at all. But Fenris dying in his place or along with him is not an option either is it?”_

 _Silence fell and all eyes turned to Fenris, Anders held his breath._

 _Fenris simply stood and turned away from them, wine glass in his hands. Then he twisted in a fluid movement and threw it into the wall._

 _“He lied to me.” He spoke into the stunned silence, “I’m bringing him back so that I can kill him myself.”_

 _No one said a word and Anders closed his eyes, letting the link with his body tug his spirit back to Hawke’s estate, his heart breaking._

 _~*~_

 _The night passed slowly, Anders floating beside his body, trapped as a spirit in a physical world._

 _Occasionally the door opened, revealing Bodahn or Sandal peering in at him. Even Leandra checked up on him, clutching a warm robe around her as she padded in and banked the fire burning in the hearth._

 _Hawke entered in the morning, carrying a bowl of water and a cloth, dressed in the casual wear that the Hightown nobility favoured, the type of clothing that Fenris had dressed him in, in his dream. The memory sent a painful stab through the Mage’s gut and Anders squeezed his eyes closed._

 _They flicked open once more though as his spirit felt the man’s fingers stroke his body’s hair off his forehead. The contact shivered through the bond that still existed from Anders to his corporeal form._

 _“I wish you’d been able to trust me Anders.” He murmured, using the cloth to clean the parts of Ander that were readily accessible, “But I can see why you couldn’t. Merrill and her theories, she’s had a few about this whole thing, but one of them was that Justice doesn’t dream, so he couldn’t follow you into the Fade. What happened there...was just you and Fenris.” He huffed a soft laugh, “You and Fenris. Yeah I never would have picked that...”_

 _Anders was touched by both Hawke’s gentle care of his form, but also the lack of judgement in the man’s voice and actions. Hawke was a true friend, and even if Fenris tried to kill him after this..._

 _Suddenly he could feel a pull, a tug that was so much colder and harder than the natural bond between his spirit and body. Hawke too stiffened, hand reaching back for his weapons instinctively even though he was in his own home. After a moment he realised what it meant, at the same moment as Anders._

 _“Justice...”_

 _Together they moved for the door but while Hawke raced upstairs to buckle on his armour, Anders soared up, through walls and ceilings bursting into the Kirkwall dawn and swooping down to the warehouse at the Docks where he could see the glowing shape of Justice waiting._

 _ _AND SO IT BEGINS ANDERS._ Justice intoned in his mind, turning his sightless eyes towards the Mage, _YOU COULD STOP THIS RIGHT NOW. SAVE YOUR ELF WHORE A GREAT DEAL OF SUFFERING.__

“Don’t call him that!” Anders snapped back, folding his arms, “You have always underestimated him. All of them. You’ll see.”

 _FOOLISH MORTAL. I HAVE OFFERED YOU MUCH. AFTER, I WILL FIND A MAGE MORE WILLING TO FIGHT FOR JUSTICE, AND VENGEANCE._

Anders glared at him wondering yet again how he could have been naive enough to trust a spirit and allow him into his body. After this he would be fighting for the Mage cause, but in the right way.

Footsteps sounded and Isabella and Varric appeared, followed by Merrill, who was almost jittering with excitement.

“Why are they all here?” He asked the spirit, feeling a leaden weight fill his stomach.

 _NO HARM WILL COME TO THEM. I MUST HOWEVER MAKE SURE THAT NONE OF THEM WILL AID HIM._

“You did not say he had to complete the tasks alone and unaided!”

 _NO I DID NOT. BUT THEY WILL NOT HELP HIM. THIS IS HIS TASK. DO YOU DOUBT HIM SO MUCH?_

Anders stayed silent. He didn’t doubt Fenris, he knew him well, both from the physical realm and the Fade dreams, knew that now he had committed to a course of action that he would stick to it.

His gaze was drawn to the sound of more footsteps as Fenris drew into sight, flanked by Hawke, Aveline and a pensive Sebastian. Justice shimmered into view, prompting reactions from the party members who hadn’t been there the last time the spirit had appeared in this form; Isabella swore quietly, Varric’s eyebrow lifted up towards his hairline, and Aveline reached for a weapon out of pure habit before realising what she had done and straightening with a wry smile.

Fenris just marched up to Justice, his customary displeased expression in place and stopped a mere pace away from the glowing, spectral form.

“What is your task spirit?” He asked with all his usual diplomacy. The familiarity made Anders smile and Justice frown faintly.

 _”ARE YOU NOT WORRIED ABOUT THE POSSIBILITY OF FAILING ELF? WHY DO YOU SEEK TO HASTEN THE END OF YOUR EXISTANCE? LEAVE ANDERS TO ME AND YOU WILL NEVER HAVE TO SEE HIM AGAIN.”_

“I asked you for my task.” Fenris snapped back, “I’ve made my deal already spirit, you will not sway me.”

 _“AS YOU WISH MORTAL.”_ Justice’s voice boomed, and the door to the warehouse opened slowly, _“INSIDE YOU WILL FIND FOUR ROOMS. THREE WILL BE EMPTY. ONE WILL BE FULL, FULL OF COINS. YOU ARE TO SORT THEM INTO THE FOUR CATAGORIES. ALL MUST BE SORTED BY SUNSET TONIGHT. DO YOU ACCEPT ELF?”_

 _“What kind of challenge is that?” Hawke spluttered, stepping up to Fenris’ shoulder, “What does that prove?”_

 _  
_“THIS IS MY TASK. DO YOU WITHDRAW?”_   
_

“I accept your task.” Fenris growled, walking towards the door of the warehouse, Hawke and the others trailing after him.

“Chin up Broody.” Varric said cheerfully, as Fenris stepped into the warehouse “With all of us helping you this will be over in no time.”

No sooner had he spoken, than the door slammed shut, sending Hawke leaping back with a yelp.

 _”THIS IS HIS TASK TO COMPLETE. ALONE.”_

 _Instantly an argument broke out on the Dock and Anders rolled his eyes. That could go on for hours, and right now, Fenris was in that warehouse alone. Silently Anders left Justice and the others to yell out their frustrations at one another, and slipped through the wall of the warehouse._

 _He came across Fenris who was standing still, staring in at the four rooms with an expression of shock on his face._

 _“Andraste’s perfect tits...” Anders breathed, looking at the mountainous pile of small coins, all of which were the same colour and almost the same size, “That’s...that’s impossible...”_

 _~*~_

 _It had been hours, and Fenris had barely made a dent in the pile of coins._

 _As Anders had feared each of the four different coins were irritatingly similar. Each only had a tiny difference, which took a while to figure out and then remember which room was for which coin. One coin thrown in the wrong room and all that work would have been for nothing._

 _Briefly he had drifted outside of the warehouse to check on the others, and found Isabella, Varric and Merrill keeping watch, and alternating glares at the spirit who also waited. Seeing little cause for concern Anders returned to the warehouse, and to watching Fenris labouring over the coins._

 _The Mage felt terribly sorry for the elf as the hours drifted by, seeing the frown becoming more and more ingrained on his face, etched in tired lines. If he failed, Fenris would blame himself, and if Justice saw through his threat to just leave Anders in limbo until his body starved or thirst killed him, Fenris would see himself as the murderer._

 _Anders hated the thought, almost as much as he hated the thought of being snuffed out of existence._

 _Suddenly there was a noise and Fenris whipped around, hand reaching back to retrieve his great broadsword and Anders floated forward, worried and curious at the same time._

 _He didn’t know what he had been expecting, but the sight of Athenril and a few of her younger recruits had not been it._

 _“What the...” Anders spluttered, once again inaudible to all, “What is she doing here?”_

 _“Athenril.” Fenris greeted, not lowering his weapon, “What are you doing here?”_

 _“That’s what I just said.” Anders grumbled, fed up with the fact no one could hear him, “For such large ears Fenris you sure don’t listen.”_

 _“You’re the elf who works with Hawke aren’t ya?” Athenril drawled, walking closer and examining the piles of coin, “This is my warehouse, so I suppose the proper question is what you and all this coin are doing in here?””_

 _“It’s long and complicated. Basically I’ve been set a task, and unless I complete it, before sunset a...one of Hawke’s companions will die.”_

 _“Sounds interesting.” Athenril moved over to examine the looming pile, and Fenris slowly sheathed his sword, “You’ll have to tell me the full story after. What’s the task?”_

 _“I need to sort the four different kinds of coin.”_

 _“Fiddly,” Athenril scooped up a handful of coins and examined them closely, “Lemme guess. You’ve just been lookin’ at ‘em? Thought so. These are dwarven coin, used in bartering. This one here? This one is heavier than the others.” She passed it over to him, “Take those damn gauntlets off. You can’t do delicate work with those things deadening your hands. Now see...” She eased a second coin into his other hand, “See? Marked difference, which you wouldn’t have felt through those things.”_

 _The elf moved forward and scooped up another one, bringing it up to her nose and sniffing, “This kind of coin always smells like copper even though it is gold. And this? This one will taste like spice.” She licked it. “And this final type...is boring and normal and won’t smell, taste or feel strange.”_

 _Anders stared at the smuggler, mouth open._

 _Fenris too seemed rather affected by the information imparted as well, and blinked at the other elf for long moments before speaking, “And what do you expect in return for your information?”_

 _“Practical man.” Athenril smiled humourlessly and flicked a coin up in the air, “Let’s say me and my boys help you with this lot. Reckon Hawke will let that Mage of his heal any wounded I get, free of any charge?”_

 _“He charges people for his healings?” Fenris frowned slightly, “I thought he ran a Free clinic.”_

 _“Free for refugees. Not Carta, Coterie or my band. We’re less needy. So? Reckon Hawke’d go for it?”_

 _“Screw Hawke!” Anders snorted, “Come on Fenris you know I’d agree to that! Hawke wouldn’t even hesitate!”_

 _“Deal.” Fenris said, a faint smile touching his lips, as he shook the Smuggler’s hand._

 _“Alright then,” Athenril said, smiling back before turning to the lads behind her, “Get sorting. If this isn’t done by sunset, you won’t be seein’ it rise again.”_

 _~*~_

 _The celebrations at the Hanged Man stretched long into the night._

 _Buoyed by Fenris’ success in Justice’s First Task, Varric and Hawke had taken it upon themselves to make sure that everyone’s ale cups and tankards were full and flowing all night. And the storyteller told the tale of the First Task, with ever increasing embellishments until the dawn sun rose to bathe the inn’s room in its light._

 _Anders had listened to Varric’s renditions with increasing amusement, floating nearby, unheard and unseen. He had even managed to entertain himself on one retelling by adding amusing little embellishments. Still it wasn’t as fun as if he had been sitting there with the others, and be able to mutter it to one of his companions._

 _And without fail his eyes kept coming back to Fenris throughout the night._

 _Even though he was the hero of the hour, a place more than willingly given up by Hawke, for the moment at least, Fenris sat more or less alone, and nursed only one or two cups the entire evening. He seemed deep in thought, frowning down into the cup and only occasionally lifting it to his lips. Even Isabella cracking dirty jokes into his ear didn’t stir him from his brooding and eventually she left him to it to go tease Hawke._

 _As dawn broke the revellers disbanded and Hawke stretched before heading over to Fenris’ corner table._

 _“I’m heading back up to Hightown for some shut-eye.” He said, popping another crick in his spine and sighing beatifically, “And to check on our dear Mage. Walk with me?”_

 _The man really did know how to handle Fenris better than anyone else, Anders thought, a pang of unexpected jealousy bursting near his heart. He had phrased it as a question, but with enough force that Fenris could interpret it as an order if he required an excuse. And sure enough the elf looked up at him for a few brief moments and then nodded, tipping his head back and drinking down the remnants of his wine, before standing and following Hawke out of the pub._

 _The pair of them didn’t hurry as they meandered their way through Lowtown and then up the stairs to Middle and Hightown, but neither did they fill the air with meaningless chatter. Both of them seemed content to just amble along in silence, but to Anders it chafed. He was so tired of his insular little bubble of ghostdom. No one hearing him, or feeling him. It was intensely frustrating._

 _It wasn’t until they entered the Hawke estate, after Hawke silently quirked an eyebrow at Fenris at the door and the elf scowled at him and pushed past to enter, that the pair really began to talk about anything interesting at all._

 _“You said you wanted to bring him back to kill him yourself.” Hawke said quietly as they entered the room where Anders’ body lay in cool repose, “You know...I don’t think I believe you.”_

 _“Oh? And why is that...?” Fenris’ voice held a dangerous note as he moved into the room, green eyes looking everywhere but at the still body in the bed._

 _“It’s so bloody obvious Fenris honestly.” Hawke rolled his eyes before bending over Anders and checking over him carefully, “No one would go to this much trouble to bring someone back from the brink of death just to kill them again. And I know you don’t hate Anders that much.”_

 _“He invaded my dreams...”_

 _“You welcomed him. Don’t try and re-write history now Fenris.”_

 _Anders watched this silently, holding his breath as he floated between the pair of them._

 _“I didn’t know it was him.”_

 _Hawke sighed and turned back to face Fenris, folding his arms across his chest, “You know what I think Fenris? I think you’re full of shit.”_

 _A squeak left Anders mouth, unheard by the room’s other two occupants._

 _“Choose your next words very carefully Hawke.” Fenris snarled, bristling, and prowling forward a step, “Don’t you presume to know how I...”_

 _“Feel?” Hawke didn’t budge, staring back at the other male, “Because you do feel don’t you Fenris? That’s why you wanted to find the Mage. That’s why you let him stay in your dreams in the first place.”_

 _“No! I...”_

 _“I know you care for him Fenris.” Hawke was unrelenting, “Your actions say it louder than your bitter words. “_

 _“Stop this!”_

 _“Why? So you can keep telling yourself you hate him? So by the time he wakes up you’ve convinced yourself that he didn’t look after you out of care or feeling of his own? He’s like this because he stopped Justice from hurting YOU!”_

 _“ENOUGH!” Fenris roared, surging forward, lyrium markings burning as he slammed Hawke into the wall._

 _Hawke twisted in Fenris grip and slipped free enough to dance out of his reach before slamming his shoulder into the elf and sending him tumbling to the floor. His arm pressed against Fenris’ neck and even though Anders knew Hawke would never hurt Fenris, not like this, he couldn’t stop the surge of irrational fear and protectiveness from surging._

 _“No!”_

 _He hadn’t meant to do anything but the next moment Hawke was flying off Fenris’ body to land a few paces away._

 _Silence fell as the two men sat up, staring at one another._

 _“That was...” Hawke’s voice was uncertain, “That wasn’t you..”_

 _“It was magic.” Fenris hissed back, Lyrium markings flickering, “I felt it...”_

 _Hawke’s head twisted around towards the bed, and Anders body and his eyes widened. “He knew... he knew that I was attacking you and he protected you, you ungrateful little wretch.”_

 _“I didn’t need his help!”_

 _“Do you even listen to yourself?” Hawke shouted, throwing his hands up in the air, “He’s lying there, practically dead and he’s STILL looking after you!”_

 _“I don’t WANT him!” Fenris roared back, scrambling to his feet, “He’s a filthy abomination! A Mage! He is everything I hate! I don’t want anything to do with him. He saved my life! And now I’ll save his! Then we’ll be done...I don’t want anything further to do with him!”_

 _Hawke stared at Fenris for long moments and Anders couldn’t even look at him, feeling sick to his stomach. The brief excitement of interacting with the world once more had well and truly faded. Now...now he just ached._

 _“You don’t deserve him.” Hawke’s voice was firm and calm, so strange after Fenris’ fervent rage, “You don’t even know what love is. What true sacrifice is. You know what Fenris...I know Anders. I know him better than you. And he’s a good man. When Justice next calls, don’t answer. One of us will do it. “_

 _And the man swept out of the room, leaving the elf standing beside the body of the Apostate mage, looking quite bereft._

 _~*~_

 _Night fell and once again Anders felt the tug of Justice._

 _He tried to resist, fighting the urge to leave his corporeal shell and fly through the Kirkwall night to wherever the spirit called him now, but it was futile. Leaving the sounds of Hawke fumbling about upstairs, and the yelp of a stubbed toe as the man got ready to head wherever Justice called them, Anders let his spirit drift up through the roof once more._

 _He was surprised to find himself drawn to the docks again and specifically to the jetty where the ferries across to the Gallows left from. There Justice waited, still fuming over his defeat from yesterday._

 _Anders blocked him out, feeling too emotionally wrung out to really deal with the bullshit that Justice could bring, and instead watched as his friends gathered once more. When Hawke arrived, trailed by Sebastian Anders looked away, feeling too ashamed for words._

 _Hawke knew Fenris didn’t care for him, that he had been giving affection to an elf that could never, would never, love him in return. He was embarrassed, so..._

 _The man moved forward, face grim, walking toward Justice with a solemn Sebastian trailing him and a concerned Aveline._

 _“Fenris isn’t...”_

 _“Save your breath Hawke.”_

 _It was fortunate perhaps that Anders was unable to be heard, because the noise he made when that voice spoke was something between surprise, joy and a halla giving birth. He twisted around to watch as Fenris strode down the jetty, customary frown in place and green eyes slightly red rimmed._

 _“Fenris, you...”_

 _“I’ve done a lot of thinking today Hawke. It’s fine.”_

 _“Maybe that’s why I saw smoke rising from Hightown.” Hawke muttered to Varric as the Dwarf moved up alongside him and Fenris strode up to Justice. But there was a small smile on the man’s face, and Anders wondered at it. Had he missed something here?_

 _“Fenris doesn’t smoke, you know that Hawke.” Varric chimed back, winking as the elf twisted to glare at them, “He’s much more likely to combust from all that internally repressed...”_

 _“Let him be Varric.” Sebastian’s voice was gentle, “He needs to focus...”_

 _“Oh you are such a spoilsport.” Isabella drawled, folding her arms with a pout, “That Chantry has so much to answer for.”_

 _ _”IF YOU ARE ALL QUITE FINISHED.”_ Justice interrupted, frowning at them all as though their levity was an affront, and considering who the spirit was, it well might be, _”I GIVE THE ELF HIS NEXT TASK.”__

“I suppose we can allow that,” Hawke drawled, folding his arms, “What do you think Varric?”

“Go ahead Mister Justice,” Varric said, completely deadpan, “We wouldn’t dream of interrupting.”

 _”I ONLY WISH THAT WERE TRUE.”_ Justice grumbled before turning back to Fenris, who hadn’t taken his narrowed green eyes from the spirit’s form, _”YOUR NEXT TASK ELF. YOU ARE TO RETRIEVE A PAGE FROM A BOOK FOR ME.”_

 _“A page.” Hawke interrupted, rolling his eyes, “Shells and shards...”_

 _Sebastian rolled his eyes, and stepped forward to cover Hawke’s mouth with his hand, “Continue please Justice.” Sebastian said politely, as Hawke’s muffled protest rose from behind his hand, “Hawke won’t interrupt again if I have to keep him gagged all night.”_

 _A muffled but unmistakable ‘kinky’ was heard by all before Justice turned back to Fenris._

 _“What book and where can it be located?” Fenris asked without preamble, folding his arms tight across his chest._

 _ _”THE BOOK IS CALLED, ‘ASCETIR’”_ Justice intoned, stepping forward, lifting his hand. _”YOU WILL BE ABLE TO RECOGNISE IT BY IT’S DISTINCTIVE COVER.”__

 _“Fenris...watch...” Anders began, but of course no one heard him as Justice’s fingers touched the elf’s forehead, showing him the book._

 _Predictably Fenris did not react well to the spirit’s gesture and drew his sword. “Touch my mind again and you will regret it, spirit,” he snarled, “Where is the book?”_

 _A smirk touched Justice’s lips and Anders felt a strong surge of foreboding fill him. _”IT IS IN THE LIBRARY OF THE CIRCLE OF MAGI. IT IS HELD IN THE SECRET BOOK REPOSITORY. YOU WILL NEED TO ACCESS IT AND RETRIEVE A PAGE WITHOUT SPILLING A SINGLE DROP OF TEMPLAR OR MAGE BLOOD. DO YOU ACCEPT MY CHALLENGE?”__

“Oh shit...” Anders groaned.

“Maker have mercy.” Sebastian breathed, “Fenris...don’t..”

Fenris ignored him and nodded once, striding down the jetty to the waiting ferry, Anders following helplessly.

“Fenris!” Merrill shouted, running after him as Hawke turned on Sebastian. Anders heard his friend growling, ‘Do you even WANT Fenris to get Anders back?” before Merrill was standing before the other elf, “Do not activate your markings when in the Tower. The Templars and the Mages will sense it.”

Fenris looked at her with surprise and then nodded.

“I will return soon.”

“I’m not so sure.” Anders sighed as the ferry pulled out from the shore, the spectral mage following along, “I’m not so sure.”

~*~

The gallows were quiet and still.

It was eerie to see them like this; Hawke had only ever brought them to the Gallows during the day. At night the statues seemed even more sinister, the oppressive air of the place almost like a heavy cloak bearing down on them. Two Templar guards stood at the steps leading up to the entryway to the Gallows, turning back visitors who had arrived too late to see Mage’s or seek Templar aid.

Fenris hung back and then slipped off to the side, Anders following him concernedly. Getting in wasn’t going to be the hard part. If anything finding that Secret Repository and gaining access would be the tough part of this challenge. Anders remembered well the tight wards there had been on the phylacteries and secret libraries of the Circle back in Fereldan.

It was yet another impossible task and this time...

Fenris reached the Gallows wall and frowned as he concentrated hard. Slowly the brands flared bright and Fenris slipped his hand through the thick stone wall. Anders sucked in a breath, watching anxiously as the elf inched through the unforgiving stone.

One misstep, one slip in concentration and Fenris would solidify in the stone, which could kill him. Or like Merrill had said, the Templars would sense it...

“Fenris...” he breathed, reaching out helplessly, fingers brushing through the elf without any resistance, “Why are you doing this?”

He was halfway through the stone and Anders saw him take a deep breath before he stepped forward, face, head and body disappearing into the stone. Then he was gone and Anders floated through the wall after him to find the elf braced on the ground, on his hands and knees, shuddering.

“Fenris...”

Fenris got to his feet, unhearing of the Mage spirit beside him and padded silently around the rim of the courtyard, heading for the entrance to the main tower.

All Anders could hear was the soft puffs of breath from Fenris, as the elf crept forward, slipping into the Circle of Magi, using his phasing trick to slip through the mahogany wood without opening it and possibly alerting anyone.

“You’re going to get tired if you keep doing that...” Anders murmured, needing to say something even if he would never be heard, “Stubborn snarly elf.”

The hallways were dim lit with magelights gleaming in sconces lining the worn stone and it was through this that Fenris padded, looking like a shadow himself, with Anders following him helplessly. Templar shields and insignias on banners decorated the dark walls, and Anders shuddered at the sight of them. Another symbol of Mage oppression.

Slowly the pair of them moved through the lower floor checking the classrooms and the apprentice barracks where the Mage students snored softly or mumbled in their sleep. One young girl was crying silently in her dreams, and it was by her bed that Fenris paused, gazing down at her wet cheeks with a faintly unhappy expression on his face. Hesitantly he reached out and slowly pulled the girl’s blanket up and around her shoulders more snugly, before he moved on and out of the rooms.

He’s sweet, Anders thought, fascinated as he followed his elf, I had no idea...

It took a while to scan every layer of the Circle, but eventually they found the Secret Repository.

It seemed less secret and more restricted really, Anders thought dryly as Fenris examined the huge door closely. Both he and the elf could feel the power in the door and the wards protecting it and it made Fenris cautious about phasing through it.

Understandable, Anders thought privately.

So it was that they were both absorbed and didn’t see or hear the figure come down the hallway until the tip of the Templar’s sword was pressed to Fenris’ back, between his shoulder blades.

“Turn around,” The Templar said, and Anders whirled around with a loud gasp that no one heard, “Slowly.”

~*~

It was fortunate for Fenris really that the Templars who had caught him had been Cullen and Carver who had been patrolling together and had spotted the elf as he turned down that corridor. As it was, Anders had to restrain himself from pinching the bridge of his nose as Cullen offered the elf a cup of tea.

“So let me get this straight,” Carver said, rubbing his forehead, “Anders was visiting you in your dreams and protecting you from demons, without Justice.”

Cullen made a distinctly disapproving sound; he hadn’t taken the news of Anders being possessed by a Spirit of Justice very well. A couple of smashed teacups lying around his otherwise pristine office were testament to the large shouting match that had preceded this more cordial chat. Carver ignored his superiors sound and kept his blue eyes on Fenris’ green ones.

“You two became close, and one day you asked Anders about finding the Mage from your dreams and Justice freaked out.”

“Your brother’s words were ‘threw a bit of a temper tantrum at the thought of Fenris taking his favourite toy’.” Fenris supplied with a rather passable imitation of Hawke’s drawl.

That made Cullen grin into his tea and Carver rolled his eyes, “Yes that does sound like my brother. So Anders and Justice became separated but Anders was removed from his physical shell...and Justice said he’d restore him if you completed three tasks?”

“That is correct.”

“Sounds rather like a deal with a demon to me.” Cullen muttered, sighing gustily, “You should have just...”

“What,” Fenris bit back, scowling at Cullen, “Let him die?”

“I thought you weren’t a big fan of Anders?” Carver quirked an eyebrow at Fenris, who turned his scowl on him, “Last I remember you and he were constantly at each other’s throat about Mage rights and the dangers Mages present. Surely you and he haven’t changed so much in three years.”

“He is different without Justice.” Fenris said simply, and set down his teacup. “My second task is to bring Justice a page from a book from the Secret repository.”

“Absolutely not.” Was Cullen’s blunt response but Carver was watching Fenris closely and his eyes narrowed.

“What is the book?”

“Ascetir.” Fenris answered.

Cullen’s eyes widened and Cullen rubbed his forehead again, sighing loudly, “I thought as much.”

“You are speaking riddles.” Fenris frowned between the two Templars, “Explain.”

“The secret repository is for dangerous tomes.” Cullen said quietly, “Ascetir is one of the most deadly. Open it without speaking the wardwords and it will kill you.”

Silence fell.

“Shit...” Anders whispered, staring at Cullen and then at Fenris, “Shit, buggering fuck.”

“Justice is trying to get you killed.” Carver’s voice was urgent, “Dammit Fenris you’re playing with some serious fire here. He didn’t expect you to complete his first task...and now...”

“Now it’s worried.” Cullen supplied, shaking his head, “You have it worried. If you die, then it will not be forced to relinquish its Mage vessel.”

“I need that page.” Fenris said quietly, looking between the two men, “If I don’t have it come dawn Anders will die, or be possessed for real. I can’t...”

“I’m sorry.” Cullen said and he did look truly sad as he peered down into his tea, “I cannot in good conscience allow this.”

Carver snorted softly and turned to his superior officer, “You would do the same.”

“And what just are you implying Sir Carver.” Cullen growled back, puffing himself up slightly.

“You have been watching my sister.” Carver supplied bluntly, causing Anders to choke, and Fenris’ eyebrow to inch up towards his hairline, “If she was in danger I would hope you would try to aid her.”

“She is not an Abomination!” Cullen hissed back, his cheeks beginning to flame with colour, “Makers Breath, Carver...”

“And you would not do everything you could to save the woman you loved?”” Carver challenged, not backing down.

Fenris spluttered.

Both men ignored him.

“That...is completely beside the point!” Cullen clenched his fist, and hitting his thigh, “I would never get myself into this situation.”

“If you do not help me you will have an extremely powerful Abomination on the loose.” Fenris supplied, and now both men were listening, “Anders is a very powerful Mage, and with his power and Justice’s own abilities, and that focus...no humanity holding him back...”

“It wouldn’t be pretty,” Carver agreed, turning to Cullen, “This is the only way to get the Mage back unpossessed, without killing him.”

“Killing him is an option.” Cullen muttered and then blinked as he found Fenris’ sword an inch from his throat. The elf was glowing and had moved with that almost inhuman speed he had and now he was glaring at the Templar, huge sword unwavering at his throat.

“You want him. You’ll have to go through me.”

“Fenris...” Anders breathed, feeling his heart warm even as it clenched at what Cullen might do.

Cullen however was frowning at Fenris’ markings, “Is that...Lyrium?” he asked, voice shocked.

“Yes.” The elf snapped, “Do not push me Templar.”

“He can rip people’s hearts from their chests.” Carver supplied, reaching out, hands outstretched to lightly tap the blade, “Sheathe your weapon Fenris. Cullen isn’t going to hunt down your Mage.”

“I outrank you.” Cullen muttered at Carver, “I’m sure I do. Someone didn’t come along and demote me did they?”

“No sir.” Carver grinned as Fenris sheathed his sword, “But one day..”

“Bite your tongue boy.” Cullen stood slowly and sighed, “Well I suppose I had better help you then. But if Anders becomes an Abomination for real, I want you or Carver’s brother to come and tell me so Carver and I can hunt him down. Understood?”

“If he becomes one, you won’t have to.” Fenris replied, following the two men out of the study, “I’ll kill him myself.”


	3. Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There were times that even Anders could bring himself to admit that joining with Justice had been a mistake
> 
> When he slept however he felt his mind separate from Justice, the spirit unable to travel back to the Fade along the delicate tendrils of slumber. When he slept Anders felt like himself, Anders the Grey Warden, Anders the irreverent who had oogled a statue of Andraste, Anders the escape artist.
> 
> Anders the Mage, who believed in his cause but wasn’t so consumed by it that the pleasures of life passed him by.
> 
> He missed that.

If Anders hadn’t been so sharding worried about Fenris and the tasks and his life, the expression on Justice’s face when Fenris gave him the page would have been hilarious.

Once again celebrations were held at the Hanged Man with the tale being retold again and again by Varric and Isabella, much to the delight of the patrons. Aveline had gone home to Donnic and Merrill was sitting by Isabella nursing a cup of mead, giggling.

Everyone was enjoying themselves and partying around the pub except for a small table near the back where Fenris was huddled, talking to Sebastian and Hawke. He had related the discussion with Cullen and Carver, interrupted frequently by Hawke’s snarking about his brother, and now the three men were pondering the entire situation.

“The third task is going to be nigh on impossible Fenris.” Sebastian’s voice was low and concerned as he leaned in, looking at the elf with concern, “He’s not going to risk losing his hold on Anders because of this...”

“Then why did he even agree to the deal.” Fenris growled back.

“Justice expected you to fail at the first hurdle.” Hawke tapped the table with his finger, “Giving him a legitimate claim on Anders. Plus I think he was bored? Maybe he wanted an opportunity for revenge?”

“If he wants revenge,” Sebastian sighed, “Then he is truly no longer a spirit. He’s close to demonic.”

Fenris stood, using his hands to push himself upwards and looked down at the two faces turned up to him. “He won’t get away with this. Now, I must go home and rest. I will see you tomorrow Sebastian, Hawke.”

“Be careful Fenris.” Sebastian said softly as the elf moved around the table, Anders disembodied spirit following him, “Maker watch over you.”

Fenris glanced back at him, then at Hawke who gave him a wink which couldn’t hide his worry, and nodded before leaving the Hanged Man and exiting out into Kirkwall.

He had barely moved three paces before Justice materialised before him, drawing a gasp from Anders and causing Fenris to unsheathe his blade swiftly.

“What do you want Spirit?”

 _”I HAVE FOR YOU, YOUR THIRD AND FINAL TASK.”_

Fenris frowned, and Anders scowled at Justice furiously, “Give him a break Justice.” He hissed, “He’s exhausted by the night already...”

“No witnesses this time?” Fenris’ voice was calm but cool as he lowered his blade, “What is your task?”

 _“A JEWEL. YOU MUST RECOVER FOR ME A JEWEL.”_

“And where is this jewel?”

 _”IT CAN BE ANY JEWEL YOU CHOOSE ELF. BUT IT MUST COME FROM THE BLACK CITY.”_

Anders felt his stomach drop. The black city, at the heart of the Fade. The place where, the Chantry preached, the Maker had once dwelled. The place corrupted by Tevinter Magisters, the birthplace of Darkspawn. The place where, legends said, the dead souls passed through on their way to eternity with the Maker, or the rest of existence just drifting.

“No!” He cried, hurling himself ineffectually against Justice, “No! He’ll die! I cannot let you do this!”

Fenris stood there, pale and still, and Anders tried desperately to make himself heard, “Fenris no! Don’t even think about it. Please love...”

But the elf’s spine straightened and his chin came up as he fixed Justice’s gaze with his own.

“I accept.” He said quietly, and Anders wailed his despair as Justice began to laugh.

~*~

“What do you know of the Black City?”

Merrill glanced up when nobody answered and blinked with surprise when she realised that the others had wandered off to other parts of the Emporium and that Fenris was standing there looking directly at her. Behind Fenris, Anders sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

This wasn’t going to go well; conversations between Fenris and Merrill never did.

“Are you talking to me?” the Dalish elf enquired with surprise, blinking owlishly at Fenris, “And why do you want to know about the Black City?”

“Can’t you ever just answer a question without having to know every reason behind it?” Fenris barked in return, folding his arms.

“Well I’m sorry Fenris but you usually don’t talk to me.” Merrill chirped, arching her eyebrow, “Apart from when you wanted to know about Anders in the Fade. Ooh does this have to do with Anders?”

“Yes he’s planning on travelling to the Black City, former home of the maker and origin of Darkspawn, in the centre of the Fade and bring a spirit of Justice back a jewel.” Anders snarked, eternally annoyed at his disembodied and unheard state, “I think you should talk him out of it.”

“She would not be able to, even if she knew.” Xenon’s voice murmured and Anders whipped around in shock, “Yes I can hear you, and see you. It is one of my many talents.”

“What do you mean she would not be able to?” Anders turned away from the pair of elves who had devolved into squabbling about the reasons for Fenris’ enquiry. “Someone has to talk him out of it!”

“She would never be able to convince him he should not go.” Xenon intoned, “Because he would not care what she said. He has made up his mind to go and go he shall. Perhaps he thinks the reward is worth the risk.”

“He hates me.” Anders sighed, shaking his head, “He feels obligated.”

“Would an obligated man risk all he has to save you?” Xenon scoffed, “Use your noodle boy.”

“Then I don’t know why he’s doing it, risking his life.”

“Yes you do.” Xenon sighed gustily, “Think on it boy, wouldn’t you do the same for him?”

Anders paused, thinking about it seriously. He thought back to the fear he felt when Justice had taken over his body to strike Fenris down, the energy he had sent into Hawke when he was grappling with the elf.

Xenon watched him, and nodded, “Aren’t you already? Someone who didn’t love him wouldn’t care what happened to him so long as he tried to free him. You would rather float in non existence or die rather than have anything happen to him.”

“How do you...?”

“You do not think I have ears outside this Emporium?” Xenon snorted, “The tales Varric tells are probably grossly exaggerated, but there are always nuggets of truth in them. That is why they are so interesting, and so popular. And this tale is the talk of Kirkwall.”

“Just tell me!” Fenris’ raised voice behind him, snapped Anders focus back to the elves behind him, “How do people travel to the Black City.”

“Mage’s can travel there when they dream,” Merrill sounded unruffled but curious, “But you normal folk don’t really have control over yourselves when you dream do you?”

“No.” Fenris gritted out, patience sorely tempted.

“I suppose the easiest way to get there then would be to die!” Merrill chirped, unaware of the tenseness in Fenris’ shoulders and the sudden intake of breath from Anders, “All those who die pass through the Black City.”

Anders looked at Fenris, so sure that this now would be the end of it, that Fenris would give up. But instead of seeing regret and refusal on his face, Fenris looked thoughtful.

“No!” Anders stormed, shouting it as loud as he could, “NO! FENRIS!”

“There is no need to shout.” Xenon grumbled at him, “He cannot hear you, and I can. Shouting is wholly unnecessary.”

“Talk to him!” Anders begged, turning back to the proprietor, “Please, tell him not to do it, tell him I appreciate it but that his life is too precious to risk on a whim. Please.”

“I am no messenger.” Xenon sniffed huffily, “And he shall do as he deems fit. You can be sure of that.”

For hours Anders begged with him. But Xenon remained unmoved. And when Anders turned around, Fenris and the others had gone.

~*~

Searching for Fenris as a spirit was almost as frustrating as searching for Fenris in corporeal form. The only improvement to this was that he could cover more ground as a spirit, flitting from here to there, searching for his foolish, stupid, beautiful elf.

His faint connection to his body twinged slightly, like a faint bell jangling. Someone had touched him.

Anders paused for a brief moment and then let the tug of that connection to draw him back to Hawke’s estate and the small room. His gamble paid off as he materialised through the wall to see Fenris bending over his inert body.

The elf slowly removed one of his gauntlets, drawing off the spiky claws that he was rarely, if ever, seen without. Then slowly he moved forward to tentatively brush some strands of Anders hair off his face. The lyrium tipped fingers brushed against his skin, and an echo of that soft touch resonated within Anders spirit form, causing his breath to catch.

“Fenris.” He whispered, watching him, “...Fenris...”

“Fenris?” a voice called from the other room, and the soft atmosphere shattered as Fenris tensed, straightening up and jamming his gauntlets back on as Hawke marched into the room, “There you are! Bodahn said he saw you come in!”

“What do you want Hawke?” Fenris growled, turning to face his friend with a scowl.

“This is my house?” Hawke reminded him, rolling his eyes, “Why does no one remember that? Orana chases me out of the kitchen, Bodahn shoos me away from the front rooms...”

“Hawke!”

“Oh right!” The man grinned, before glancing over at Anders inert body, “How is he?”

“No different.”

“And you?” Hawke’s face morphed into a look of concern, “I heard you asking Merrill about the Black City today.”

“I was curious.”

“Sure you were.” Hawke drawled, “Asking her how to get there? That’s curious knowledge now?”

“What’s your point Hawke?” Fenris folded his arms defensively, as Anders drew close, hopeful that Hawke would come good.

“My point is that Justice hasn’t called any of us. There hasn’t been even a whisper from him, and yet Anders time is nearly up. And then suddenly there is you asking a Mage about the Black City. That’s very...strange.”

“Your. Point. Hawke!”

“Justice gave you his third task didn’t he?” Hawke folded his arms smugly, “To travel to the Black City.”

Fenris scowled.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Hawke clapped his hands together, “Firstly, you are utterly mental if you think I’m going to let you do this without help.”

“You shouldn’t be letting him do it at all!” Anders protested, throwing his hands up, “Dammit Hawke!”

“So...I brought in some reinforcements! He was visiting his mother and I think he’ll be very useful.”

And with a dramatic flourish Hawke threw the door open once more to reveal Feynriel, the Mage they had helped some time before, who looked at him with an eyebrow raised.

“Has he gotten crazier while I’ve been away? Or is that just me?” The young man asked, looking beyond Hawke to Fenris.

“He’s always been crazy.” Fenris sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, a bad habit that he had picked up from Anders, “But he used to be better at hiding it. Hawke, why is that Mage here?”

“He’s what they call a Dreamer, remember?” Hawke led Feynriel in and shut the door, “He has a stronger connection to the Fade and the dream worlds than any Mage in Kirkwall. Maybe the entirety of Thedas!”

“...I wouldn’t go that far...” Feynriel protested weakly but Hawke ignored him.

“Now I know you don’t like Tevinter Fenris.” Hawke clapped a hand down on the elf’s shoulder, “I know you don’t but they are good at training magic.”

“You aren’t a blood mage are you?” Fenris spat at the mage who shook his head quickly, “Good.”

“There would be a lot more mess if he was one Fenris, trust me.” Hawke drawled, winking at Feynriel who looked alternatively baffled and worried as he glanced at the expression on Fenris’ face, “Stop scowling, you’re scaring the Mage.”

Fenris transferred his glare from the half elf boy to the man standing beside him.

“The point is...” Hawke went on, drawing a reluctant Fenris over to the Mage, “He can open up a pathway to the Fade for you both, and guide you to the Black City without you having to kill yourself.”

There was silence for a moment as the rogue gave the elf a meaningful look and Fenris shuffled uncomfortably. It was Feynriel who broke the tense silence, shifting slightly.

“I understand the time constraints are pressing? We should begin immediately; time is not regular in the Fade. It could take minutes, hours...Days...”

Fenris nodded once shortly and at Feynriel’s instruction the three of them left the room, heading up to Hawke’s bedchamber. There Fenris lay stiffly on the bed, Feynriel sitting cross legged beside him, holding his hand. Intrigued, Anders drifted close, watching the ritual curiously, seeing the faintest glow of silver around Fenris and Feynriel’s joined hands, the soothing sounds of Feynriel’s voice as he murmured the incantation.

He saw the instant that Feynriel disappeared into the Fade, the unnatural stillness and the slow breathing, the mystical glow enveloping him and Fenris. Fenris too had fallen asleep, breaths deep and even.

Fenris was in the Fade, where Anders could not follow.

Now he and Hawke could only wait.

~*~

Hours had passed and Hawke had dozed off at the desk by the door, dark head resting on the wood and gentle snores drifting through the otherwise silent room.

Feynriel and Fenris had not moved a muscle in the time they had been in the Fade, and the glow around them had not even flickered for a moment. Anders was impressed; he could only imagine the kind of power it took for the Mage to maintain that kind of trancelike state for this long. But Feynriel had mentioned days...had the young half elf actually spent days in the Fade before?

Anders found himself prowling restlessly around the bedchamber, drifting through the bed, through the canopy, through Hawke’s desk, even through Hawke himself. Although he only did that once, he really didn’t need to see Hawke’s internal organs more than that one time thank you very much.

But in the end, as with all things it seemed, when things went wrong they went spectacularly wrong.

Sometime after the midnight bell had rung the house began to shake, quaking on its foundations. Hawke awoke with a snort, bleary eyed and reaching for his twin blades resting on the desk. His dark head moved around, at first dazedly and then with more intent as he woke up more. His blue eyes narrowed as he scanned the shaking room but there was nothing to be seen, apart from the Mage and the elf still laying there still on the bed.

Anders meanwhile had taken up a defensive stance, insubstantial as he was, over Fenris’ still body. Part of his mind was screeching questions, wanting a logical explanation for the house rattling like it was going to fall apart around them, but the rest of him knew already. There was only one explanation.

Justice.

Somehow the spirit knew that Fenris had travelled to the Fade, he knew that he was there and succeeding and he was trying to end it all, before Fenris could return to his body. It hurt, deep down, it hurt deeply that the spirit he had once fought alongside, and had agreed to help in honour of that friendship, had turned on him so badly, had become something so dark.

“You are not my friend Justice.” Anders murmured, clenching his fists together, finally accepting the loss of the spirit that had fought with him in Amaranthine, “You are not him.”

 _”YOU WOUND ME ANDERS.”_ and there Justice was, floating before him, a great spirit sword in his hand, like the one he had wielded while in Kristoff’s body, _”TO TURN ON ME SO IS NOT JUST.”_

“It is the truth!” Anders shouted, “You are not Justice. Not MY Justice.”

 _”NO,”_ The Spirit admitted, _”NO I AM NOT YOUR JUSTICE. NOT THE JUSTICE YOU KNEW. I AM MORE THAN JUSTICE COULD HAVE EVER BEEN. I AM VENGEANCE, UNBOUND BY RIGHT OR WRONG, AND ONLY LED BY WHAT NEEDS TO BE DONE.”_

“My anger...”

 _”CONTRIBUTED.”_ Vengeance tilted its head, looking down at Anders, _”OH BUT THE FEELING OF THE WORLD. TO LIVE AS A MORTAL DOES. THE ALLURE OF THE FLESH, TO SMELL, TASTE, SEE THROUGH MORTAL EYES. BUT A SPIRIT IS A SINGLE EMBODIMENT OF A VIRTUE, HOW CAN THEY COMPETE WITH A HUMAN’S COMPLEX EMOTION. THEY BECOME CORRUPTED, THEY BECOME...MORE.”_

“It does not matter what you are.” Anders spat, pointing a finger at the being before him, “What matters is right now.”

 _”YOU ARE RIGHT.”_ Vengeance nodded, _”STAND ASIDE ANDERS, FOR THE LOVE THAT JUSTICE ONCE BORE YOU, STAND ASIDE AND LET ME DEAL WITH THE ELF. IF YOU DO NOT, THEN I WILL HAVE TO REMOVE YOU AS WELL AS HE. I DO NOT WISH THAT.”_

“You cannot have him.” Anders shook his head firmly, “You could not have him before and you cannot have him now.”

 _”A SHAME.”_ Vengeance sighed, and then lifted his sword, _”FAREWELL ANDERS.”_

The feeling he had had when Hawke and Fenris fought returned with a surge of ferocity that took his breath away, and magic crackled at his fingertips.

He heard Hawke gasp nearby, realising that the man could see him, see him and see Justice, but the next second it didn’t matter because he was fighting. Lighting crackled from his fingers, lancing out at the former spirit, which dodged, lunging at him with a roar, slashing with the sword.

The fight was evenly matched, both of them powerful, but Anders was the one at a disadvantage. The instant Vengeance felt it had an opening it would send an attack towards the unprotected body of Fenris laying on the bed. Anders would lunge to shield him, leaving himself unprotected in turn, and then would fall back under the flurry of attacks that followed.

He could hear Hawke shouting, cheering him on. He knew the man had tried to help, but his daggers had soared through the incorporeal shape. It was so unfair that the spirits attacks could hurt Anders and hurt Fenris, but Hawke’s could not hurt it.

A blast of power and Anders felt himself battered away, through a wall and out into Hightown. Aveline was out there he noticed dazedly, guardsmen around the estate, stopping anyone from entering. He wondered what it all looked like from below and then he was zooming back into the room, throwing up a desperate shield around Fenris, just as Vengeance sent another blast, straight at the unprotected elf.

The world went white.

“Enough.” A warm, deep voice boomed in his head. It was a voice like the clanging of iron smiths, the baying of hounds, the call of wild birds, the rush of the rivers and seas. It was a voice that contained everything and nothing. It was a voice that defied description, even as Anders lay there, across Fenris’ body, struggling to define just what it was.

Slowly he sat up, shading his eyes as he looked around. Hawke was frozen mid stride towards the bed, Feynriel and Fenris were unmoved, the curtain swung in mid drift. Time had stopped.

Time hung still.

But Anders only saw that for a moment before his gaze was drawn up to the ceiling which was no longer there, and which seemed to be open to the sky. A sky that was purest white. It was from there the voice came.

 **“We have been watching.”** The voice continued, rumbling through the world like rolling thunder, **“And this tale has brought great sadness to my wife.”**

Anders stared.

“No...way...” he breathed.

 **“You will stay silent mortal.”** The Maker informed him, **“I know you well, and I know well what kind of glib statements are going to leave that mouth of yours.”**

“But...”

 **“Silence!”** The Maker boomed and Anders closed his mouth, **“Good. Now, Andraste has always had a bit of a soft spot for romance.”** He sighed, **“When she was alive she used to throw things at me when I interrupted her reading. She was crying...”** he added defensively when Anders grinned, **“I thought she might have been hurt.”**

“Understandable.” Anders assured him, struggling to assume an expression of solemnity, “Carry on.”

 **“And she has been watching you and Fenris.”** he says the elfs name carefully, **“And she threatened me that if I did not fix the situation that she would make my existence very unpleasant indeed.”**

“Can she do that?” Anders asked incredulously, “You are the Maker after all.”

 **“She is my wife.”**

“Ah...”

 **“Indeed.”**

The Maker turned to Vengeance, frozen where he was, and frowned.

 **“Vengeance. You have displeased me and my immortal bride Andraste. You have been underhanded in your dealings with these mortals. And yet they have prevailed over you. I banish you back to the deepest ends of the Fade, never again to find a human host, never again to enter the realms of mortality and never again to reach for the minds of Mages.”**

Another great flash of bright white light and a great clap of sound and when Anders could see and hear once more, Vengeance was gone.

“Did you have to do that?” he groaned.

The Maker frowned.

 **“You did not wish me to punish the spirit?”**

“No I meant the light...the sound...it was a bit overwhelming. Rather like having ones head inside a ringing bell...or rather like I imagine what having ones head in a ringing bell would be like.”

The Maker sighed.

 **“I do not understand why Andraste is so fond of you”**

“You don’t?” Anders sighed, “The Maker doesn’t love me after all.”

 **“That’s not...I didn’t...You are teasing me. I am your Divine Lord Mage, I’ll have you remember that.”**

But the Maker sounded amused.

An hour later, Anders opened his eyes in his own body, blinking up at the ceiling of Hawke’s estate and grinned.

Varric wouldn’t believe this.

~*~

Fenris was avoiding him.

Anders hadn’t even seen him since the Battle of the Bedchamber, as Hawke had taken to calling it, and although the others tried to make excuses for the elf, their faces told the true story. Fenris didn’t want to be near him.

Even his dreams kept him out.

Now that Anders had returned to his corporeal form he could once again travel to the Fade in dreams, and time and time again, every night for a month, he had tried to enter the elf’s dreams. But time and time again the wards that he had built for Fenris kept him out.

He was not welcome.

Hurt and confused Anders threw himself into the campaign for Mage rights, something he had discussed with the Maker before he had been sent back to his body. The Maker had confirmed what Anders had always known, He didn’t hate Mages. Magic was a gift like any other and could be misused like any talent. But that did not make it evil.

Still it was with some relief, a month or two after Vengeance’s defeat and Anders restoration, that Anders found himself dragged out of his clinic by a stubborn Hawke, where he had been putting the finishing touches on his manifesto, up into Varric’s room in the Hanged Man.

Everyone was there, gathered around the long dwarven style table, chattering happily, drinks in hand or on the smooth surface. Even Carver and Bethany were there, with an awkward Cullen hanging with them, trying not to draw too much attention to himself. At least he hadn’t worn his Templar armour, Anders thought with amusement as Isabella sidled up to the Knight-Captain and murmured something in his ear that made his cheeks flame with colour.

Making a mental note to talk to the man later on in the evening about Mage rights and the fact that Anders had The Maker’s backing, Anders looked around the rest of the room. Carver was watching Merrill who was gesticulating something at an amused looking Varric, Hawke was chattering happily with Aveline who had unbent for the evening, enough to just wear some light armour rather than her usual get up. Sebastian was charming a smiling Bethany, who was oblivious to the wistful looks being sent her way by Cullen.

Everyone was here.

Everyone, including Fenris.

Fenris who was sitting towards the back of the room talking with Donnic, hand cradling a glass of wine.

As though he could sense Anders gaze, Fenris’ head slowly turned and those green eyes met his guardedly. For a long moment they watched one another and then the elf turned away once more to continue his conversation.

“Breathe...” A voice beside his ear murmured with amusement.

Surprised, Anders let out the breath he hadn’t even been aware he’d been holding, and turned to look at the person beside him. Aveline and Hawke gave him almost identical looks back, eyebrows cocked.

“I know how to breathe.” He informed them, folding his arms, “It’s a pretty standard action.”

“Everyone has moments of forgetfulness.” Hawke drawled back, smirking, “Especially when looking at someone they fancy as much as you fancy Fenris...”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Anders retorted, scowling slightly, “Bloody elf.”

“You looooove him.” Hawke singsonged and Anders contemplated setting his hair on fire, “You want to hold him and kiss him and bend him over a table and...”

“That’s enough Hawke.” Aveline interrupted, shuddering slightly, “I don’t need to hear what filthy things that mind of yours can come up with.”

“On the contrary big girl.” Isabella chimed, sliding in between Hawke and Anders, and peering over at Fenris, “It might give you some ideas on how to spice up your bedroom life with your man over there.”

“I don’t need to spice anything up whore.” Aveline bit back and Anders grinned slightly, “What are you smirking at Anders?”

“Oh nothing Aveline, just that you know that a little spice in the bedroom never went amiss. Of course if you don’t like hot things an icecube can work wonders too.”

“Anders!”

“What?” Anders winced as the woman smacked his arm, and Hawke and Isabella dissolved into laughter, “Ouch, Maker’s Breath, woman.”

“I like the new you.” Hawke saluted Anders with his glass, “C’mon Aveline, let the man keep his arm in one piece yeah? He’s had to repress all those dirty tips and jokes for years.”

“Not just the tips or the jokes I fear,” Isabella observed, arching an eyebrow at the Mage, “I wouldn’t think Justice would have been too big of a fan of you having a regular boink.”

“I’m getting another drink.” Aveline shook her head and wandered off, “Far too sober to be talking about that kind of thing.”

“I pity Donnic.” Isabella sighed, “She is such a prude.”

“She might just not like talking about it.” Hawke arched an eyebrow, “Aveline is after all, more of a hands-on style of woman.”

Isabella snickered.

Anders tried to slide away unnoticed but two hands shot out, yanking him back into place. Damn rogues.

“You are not going anywhere pet.” Isabella cooed, “You need to tell us what is going on with you and that deliciously broody elf over there.”

“Nothing’s going on.” Anders sighed, folding his arms, “I mean it,” he added as Isabella looked sceptical, “He’s avoiding me like I’m a carrier of plague.”

“I’m not surprised.” Hawke grunted softly, “It’s not your fault Anders...it’s just...Fenris being Fenris.”

“It’s stupid is what it is.” Isabella rolled her eyes, “You clearly would like nothing better than to throw him down into your bed and make sweet, sweet love to him. And he clearly wants to use your body like a jungle gym. What is the problem here?”

“Fenris is proud.” Hawke replied, folding his arms, “And shy. He loves Anders, but can’t bring himself to open up in case Anders hurts him. He can’t bear to admit that he was glad that Anders was the Mage in the Fade that he had been falling in love with.”

“Stupid.” Isabella, “You’re both clearly waiting for the other to make the first move...”

“I’ve been trying to see him!” Anders hissed back, “His dreams are closed to me.”

“And his mansion? In Hightown?” Hawke retorted, “Is that closed too? Don’t you think it’s time that you stop relying on dreams and actually do something here in reality?”

Anders blinked at him.

“Strangely thoughtful of you Hawke.” Isabella said approvingly, “Now Anders, pet, you put down that drink,” and before he could move, she had yanked it out of his hands, “And you go over there and kiss him.”

“Fenris might not be a fan of such a public display...” Hawke warned, “Maybe you should ask him to talk.”

“And he says no and bolts.” Isabella argued back, “Just kiss him Anders.”

“But...”

“What have you got to lose?” Isabella said softly, and when Anders glanced at Hawke the man nodded slowly, “Go on Anders.”

“Okay...okay...” Anders took a deep breath and started to move across to Fenris, unaware that behind him, conversations were tapering off and everyone was turning to watch.

All he could see was Fenris and Donnic.

“Fenris.” He said softly, barely aware of it when Donnic slipped away and the elf turned to him with surprise, and some panic.

“Mage.” The elf’s eyes flicked away from his, “What do you want?”

“I want...” he wanted so much, so much... “I want to thank you.”

“Thank me?” Fenris blinked at him, “I did nothing.”

“You did everything.” Anders moved forward slightly, with Fenris backing back a pace, “Fenris...”

“Your thanks are not needed, but I am grateful for them.” Fenris burst out, slipping past Anders, heading for the door.

“Fenris stop.” And Anders hand shot out, grabbing Fenris’ arm, “You don’t have to...”

Lyrium flared and Fenris whirled, shoving Anders back against the wall of the room. Silence reigned as the blue markings faded from view, and Fenris realising what he had done began to withdraw.

Anders was having none of it,

He lunged in, hands cupping Fenris’ jaw and hair and his mouth sought out the elf’s soft lips in a hungry kiss. He could feel Fenris leaning into him, his own gauntleted fingers curling into Anders robes, as he began to kiss back, lips parting breathlessly under Anders’.

They clung together, kissing feverishly, like two men who were dying of thirst and had found water, and Anders clutched Fenris close, like he had ached to for so long.

Someone nudged a chair leg behind them and a soft scraping sound filled the room.

It was enough to break the spell, Fenris stiffening in Anders hold and shoving him violently away, hard enough that his head cracked against the wall.

Dazed, he stared at Fenris who was glaring at him, and everyone else around him.

“This should never have happened in the first place.” He gritted out, eyes now on Anders, “And it shall not happen again. I am sorry.”

He turned away jerkily, and before Anders could call out, stop him, do anything; Fenris had stalked away.

They all heard the door of the Hanged Man close behind him and Anders let out a furious half sob half yell and slammed his fist into the wall.

Comforting hands grabbed him and steered him to the table, sympathetic voices spoke to him and dark hands he knew to be Isabella’s pushed some disgusting alcohol into his hands.

He drank it, because what else was he going to do? Fenris didn’t want him. And all of this...had been for nothing.

So wrapped up was he, in his hurt, angry thoughts that he didn’t notice Hawke and Sebastian follow Fenris out of the door.

~*~

It was perhaps one of the most awkward and yet hilarious dinners of Anders life.

The large dining table of the Hawke mansion, which was rarely used unless it was for Summersday or midwinter, or someone’s birthday, was laden with food, and everyone was sitting around it, all looking very well dressed for once.

The reasons for this were the guests of honour.

The Maker, wearing the form of a tall slender man with dark hair and a neat pointy beard, and Andraste, who was almost inhumanly beautiful, sat by Anders side, both of them being very careful to try every bit of Orana’s cooking.

Hawke sat at the end, a hand deliberately covering his grin as he tried to keep himself in check. Leandra sat beside him, looking quite stunned that the Divine being of Thedas was sitting at her dinner table. Beside her was Bethany, who had been allowed out of the Gallows if she was accompanied by a bickering Cullen and Carver. They sat beside her, with Carver muttering things at his superior that made him go white and then blushing red by turns.

Beside Carver was Merrill, who was wearing a simple green dress she had made for the occasion, then was Isabella, Varric and Sebastian. Sebastian’s face was the one that made it incredibly difficult for Anders to keep a straight face. He had turned up on the Hawke doorstep in his Starkhaven armour that evening, and had not known why Anders and Hawke had fallen about laughing at him.

“Your crotch Sebastian!” Hawke had howled, “Look towards your balls man!”

The Prince had looked down, and for a few moments had remained looking confused and a little angry. Then his face had paled rapidly as he took in the countenance on his belt buckle and with a wail he had turned tail and fled the house, leaving Anders and Hawke to cling to one another and sob with laughter until they cried.

Now Sebastian sat there, looking so anxious and hopeful that it was almost pathetic, but sweet at the same time. His auburn hair was perfectly combed, his clothes neat. He was determined to make a good impression.

Beside Sebastian was Fenris, who sat quietly as the polite conversation flowed around him. He wore a dark tunic and soft breeches, clothing other than his prickly armour, and Anders had found himself hard pressed not to stare at him.

Andraste was beside Fenris, and engaged both the reticent elf and Sebastian in conversation. Snatches of it drifted to Anders, including Andraste asking Sebastian about Starkhaven.

“Why have you not returned to your city?”

“I...had hoped to serve the Maker better as a brother in the Chantry.”

“I have already scolded him about that book of rules he gave them, the Canticles.” Andraste had sniffed, “Mortals can be so literal. I was. And then when I left that world I realised how much I had confined myself. I hope you do not do that Sebastian...”

“....”

“Tell me Andraste,” Isabella had asked then, leaning in, “What are your thoughts on friend fiction?”

Andraste’s face lit up and The Maker and Anders shared a look and then both of them picked up their wine glasses and drank.

“So you don’t hate Mages?” Cullen asked the Maker later, as everyone helped a protesting Orana with the plates. Anders slowed his pace, listening in, “You didn’t want them...locked in a tower?”

“If I hated Mages my boy.” The Maker’s voice was a more human version of the bell ringing voice Anders had heard when he stopped the world during the struggle with Justice, “I would not gift my children with it would I?”

“I...thought...”

“I know. But it is not what was intended. Magic must be studied, nurtured. Fear drives you mortals to desperate acts, as you have seen. With good teaching, and freedom to live life, I think you will find a change in the state of Mage possession.”

Cullen looked thoughtful as The Maker looked up, meeting Anders gaze, “You Templars too. I never intended for my children to deny themselves happiness.”

The Knight Captain swallowed, glancing across the room at Bethany, “Ah...well...I...”

The Maker patted his shoulder, “I completely understand.”

Anders smiled slightly and reached around Isabella for a plate to dry and laughed as she flicked him with a towel.

It worried him later however to see that Andraste and Isabella had trapped Fenris between them on the couch and were whispering furiously at him, often winking at one another, in a way he would never have expected from the pure Bride of the Maker.

He didn’t realise that he had his own flankers until a few moments later when The Maker’s hand clapped his shoulder, and Sebastian murmured in his ear;

“He’s just scared you know.”

Anders gritted his teeth and tensed, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes you do.” The Maker informed him, “Don’t play dumb. I know the exact extent of your mental faculties.”

He glared at the god, “That’s not fair.”

“All’s fair in love and war.” Sebastian interjected, “And we’re talking about Fenris. He’s just scared.”

“I wouldn’t hurt him!” Anders growled, “I saved his life.”

“He was a slave. He doesn’t understand love like you and I do.” Sebastian murmured, “His only sexual experiences are that monster Danarius. And that apprentice Witch of his”

“Maleficarum.” The Maker grumbled, “In the truest sense of the word.”

“He cares about you. Loves you. But he doesn’t understand the emotion. He worries about it being a weakness, in appearing less than he wants to be.”

“I just want to...”

“We know.” Sebastian soothed, “Just...don’t give up on him? He’ll come to you. I am sure of that.”

“Are you?” Anders asked The Maker, “I’d feel much more confident if you were sure.”

“The pivotal choices of men are beyond even my capacity to see...”

“You’ve got no idea do you?”

“You have no respect for me. None.”

And then he remembered standing outside with the rest of them as The Maker and Andraste ascended to the celestial sphere with a shower of bright light.

Merrill sighed happily, hugging herself, “It’s beautiful.”

“It is...” Carver agreed, eyes flickering between the lights show and her.

And Anders felt Hawke’s hand gently grip his shoulder.

He didn’t say anything, but then he didn’t need to. Anders understood, and lifted his hand to squeeze it in return.

~*~

Weeks passed and things almost seemed to go back to normal.

Except not really.

Varric had begun writing an epic, which Anders strongly suspected of being about him and Fenris. He was receiving help from Isabella, which was worrying, Hawke, which was terrifying, and Sebastian, which was annoying.

Athenril was claiming her debt, and sending her boys in for healings when they got injured...or infected. So far the intimidating elf had only been into the clinic once herself. And that once had been when a Coterie assassin had tried to slice her up. He had tried to thank her once...

He wasn’t going to try it again.

Bethany, Cullen and Carver had been regularly leaving the Gallows and meeting up with Anders and other mage leaders, trying to figure out a peaceful but effective way of dissolving the Circle and yet still protecting human lives from blood magic.

Those meetings tended to involve a lot of shouting. And once a food fight.

It turned out that Cullen was extremely accurate when throwing pie.

All agreed however not to inform Meredith of anything...until they had sorted out the pertinent parts of the new system.

Progress was being made though, and Anders felt hopeful that together they would be able to implement something.

Surprisingly Sebastian had been a help as well. The man had left the Chantry’s service, officially stating his claim to the City State of Starkhaven. With Hawke and the Viscount assisting, preparations for reclaiming the other city had begun.

Sebastian had taken the Maker’s and Andraste’s words to heart. He no longer had views on Magic that were so rigid, instead he researched the talents Mage’s could have, and often would appear in Anders clinic to discuss something with him, while the Mage was healing.

He wanted to implement the changes Cullen, Bethany, Carver and he were discussing into the Starkhaven Circle, which had been closed down.

“A fresh start!” he proclaimed to Anders, blue eyes shining, “I feel like I have a purpose again.”

And Fenris?

Anders had been waiting for weeks for Fenris to finally wake up to the fact that what they had had was something more than just a passing infatuation. Or a passing joke.

It had been weeks...

And then finally one evening, when Anders was closing up the clinic, he came.

Anders was up his rickety ladder, leaning over to extinguish his lamp to signal to the resident’s of Darktown that the clinic was closed for the day. He had just managed to snuff it out when a low rumbling voice came out of the shadows.

“If you fall Mage, you will break your neck. And there is no other healer around here who will fix you.”

Anders wobbled on the ladder, looking around in surprise at Fenris who had darted forward a pace when he did, and was now glaring at the floor.

“Makers balls Fenris...don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“I do not sneak.” Fenris informed him, rolling his eyes, “And don’t you feel...disrespectful saying that now?”

“You sneak. And say what?”

“Makers balls...” Fenris said, wrinkling his nose, “You have met him...must you curse about his...privates? And I do not sneak. I am a warrior, not one of those rogues.”

“I think you missed your calling...” Anders slowly climbed down the ladder, “You would have been a smashing rogue.”

The elf just lifted an amused eyebrow.

Makers...breath, Anders breath caught as he looked at the elf, just looked at him as he had been unable to do for so long. Fenris looked tired but healthy, eyes clear and bright, hair soft and gleaming in the half-light.

He was so beautiful.

Anders gut clenched and he cleared his throat, walking quickly over to the door into the clinic, opening it and awkwardly gesturing to invite his broody elf in.

Fenris shut the door behind him and hesitated, fiddling with his gauntlets.

“Mage...Anders...I have something to confess.”

“Shouldn’t you be talking to Sebastian about that?” Anders quipped, a note of jealousy creeping into his voice. He had often resented Sebastian for his easy relationship with Fenris, and the relaxed way the elf seemed to relate to the man. He had heard Sebastian invite Fenris to Starkhaven with him, offering him a home and a position.

He had wanted to set the poncy Prince’s bow on fire.

Fenris frowned at him, clearly displeased with his glibness and closed his mouth.

Anders sighed and sat down on a cot, looking apologetic, “I’m sorry Fenris...sometimes I speak without thinking. I misplaced by thought to mouth filter...please continue?”

The elf eyed him suspiciously for a long moment before he nodded slowly, “I have a confession...In the Fade...before...” he didn’t need to say what it was before, “When you took the appearance other than Hawke’s...?”

Anders nodded.

“It was you.” The elf blurted, frowning fiercely, “You were wearing your shape...”

Anders stared at him, mind reeling.

“You...gave me...my form? The body of a Mage you hated?”

Fenris snorted, “Pfaugh, I didn’t hate you. I hated your kind, your deal with that demon. I hated what you stood for...not you.”

“Why me?” Anders said, feeling rather flummoxed, “Fenris, why me?”

The elf looked away, looked to the side and Anders knew.

“I...” Fenris struggled with the words. “I...you...”

Slowly the Mage moved forward, ignoring the skittish way Fenris’ head came up, and gently lifted his hands to brush against his jaw. The green eyes fluttered closed and Anders leaned him.

The kiss was soft, just a tender nudging of their lips against one another, brushing so lightly together, before Anders gently pulled back.

“Ask me three questions...” he breathed against Fenris’ lips, feeling them curl up into a smile, “And I will answer them honestly.”

“Anders...” Fenris rolls his eyes and pulls back slightly, “Very well. Are you...healthy? After what happened with Justice?”

“Fenris...you know I am.” It was Anders turn to roll his eyes, and he did, reaching out and stroking a fingertip along the elf’s neck, “No ill effects.”

“Good. I was making sure.” Fenris scowled at him before considering, “This...between us...will...I want it to go slow. I...need time but...I want...?”

Anders leaned in, pressing a small kiss to the elf’s nose, causing him to scrunch it up with a huff.

“Important things take time...”

Fenris sighed with relief and then looked up at Anders.

“Would you kiss me again?”

Remembering that first night in the Fade Anders chuckled softly and leaned in.

“Yes,” he whispered, before his lips claimed Fenris’ once more. But this time it wasn’t a question asked, or answered.

This time...it was a promise.

 

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And we're done with Shattered! 

Thank you all so much for reading this fic and hopefully loving it as much as I've loved writing it.

THIS IS NOT THE END. I plan to write more fics in this verse, this series. Following Fenris and Anders and the building of their new relationsip, following Carver as he attempts to woo Merrill, following Cullen and Bethany...And of course following the Maker inspired revolution of Mages that has begun here.

Sebastian has to reclaim Starkhaven...The Qunari have to try to take Kirkwall!

There is so much still to see! 

I'll be on the lookout for another prompt that will fit the verse. But please if you have any ideas feel free to comment and tell me!

THANKS ALL OF YOU! 


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